


Suppression

by Jay_eagle



Series: Suppression [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Fisting, Knotting, M/M, MJN Air Is A Family, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Blood, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Past Abortion, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, alpha Martin, omega Douglas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 64,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_eagle/pseuds/Jay_eagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas has an enormous secret to protect - one that could cost him his livelihood. When his deception falls unexpectedly apart, he discovers that Martin is in the same boat - and the revelation has the power to either make or destroy them both.</p>
<p>(For a lovely prompt from Hollyashes on Tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A

The first indication Douglas had that there might be a problem was the odd, prickly irritability that he hadn’t felt for years. At first, he thought it might be a rogue germ giving him food poisoning – that would explain the hour he spent in GERTI’s pokey toilet on the cargo flight up to Inverness, miserably puking and crapping as if there were no tomorrow. He felt rough as all hell, and could barely be prised out by Carolyn to strap in for Martin’s (admittedly very smooth) landing. As soon as they’d taxied to their stand, he was up and out of the aircraft, everything around him pressing in, feeling too close – he just wanted to hide –

 

And that was when he’d realised. _Oh no_. Frantically, he fished the black market sheet of pills out of the inside of his jacket, and stared at the packet. He waved Arthur’s approach away, and strode to a private corner of the arrivals hall, dialling the number urgently, sweaty fingers slipping on the screen as he raced to select the right person.

 

“Milo –“ he said, as soon as the call connected. “It’s Douglas.”

 

Milo had known why he was ringing immediately, but hadn’t known how to contact him earlier. Was sorry. Bad batch of heat suppressants. Ineffective - others had already complained. He would never use that good-for-nothing son of a bitch supplier again –

 

Douglas cut him off mid-sentence, taking a shaky breath as he hung up. _Fuck_. Other arrangements would have to be made, and soon. He scrolled through his phone book and found the name he was looking for, giving an airy gesture in Carolyn’s direction – he could see her watching him with Martin by the baggage reclaim, both clearly puzzled by his bizarre behaviour. He didn’t dare call the person who'd long been his backup plan – he’d text. At least they’d discussed the possibility of this happening, albeit years before, him and Melissa.

 

He composed the text with a trembling thumb. _Mel_ , it read. _Code Red_. _Inverness. Can you help_?

 

The reply came while he was in the taxi, making him let out an audible sigh of relief. _On my way. How far along are you?_

 

He texted back surreptitiously. _I’m about six hours off starting properly._ _The Caledonian Hotel._ He shifted, uncomfortably. Barrow to Inverness – that was no minor journey. Could she get to him in time?

 

The reply was swift. _I’ll just about make it._

 

Thank God. Douglas relaxed slightly, even though he felt squirmy and _wrong_. At least Mel would help him, divorce or no divorce. At least he wouldn’t be alone. His giant brain began working on how to explain to Carolyn that he was effectively grounded for three days. Food poisoning, that might cover it…

 

So preoccupied was he with the problem that he failed to notice the expression of confusion on Martin’s face, the odd look that he gave Douglas as he followed him out of the taxi.

 

Douglas allowed Carolyn to check them into MJN’s two rooms, then grabbed Martin subtly by the wrist to stop him following the Knapp-Shappeys upstairs. “Wait,” he whispered.

 

Martin made a grumbling noise but did as he was asked. The two of them watched Carolyn and Arthur disappear before Martin turned to him, still a peculiar expression across his features. He looked… bewildered, Douglas thought. No time to speculate as to why, though. Hastily, he turned to the receptionist. “I need one further single room, please.”

 

“Douglas, what -?” Martin began, but Douglas just held up a hand to stop him, accepting the key proffered by the slightly bemused hotel employee.

 

“Thanks.” He hadn’t let go of Martin’s wrist, and drew him over to the stairs. “I’m still feeling sub-par. I want that double room to myself.” His firm tones clearly brooked no argument.

 

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” Martin, bless him, did look genuinely sympathetic. “Can I fetch you anything?”

 

Douglas reflected. “Some bottled water, please,” he requested. “Maybe some dry crackers.” Mel would bring things, he was sure – she’d been his Alpha long enough to know what supplies to lay in for a heat – but just in case, a few provisions couldn’t hurt.

 

“Of course.” Martin nodded understandingly. “I’ll just dump my things, and then I’ll go and get them for you.”

 

“Cheers.” Douglas’ guts twisted again and he grimaced. He hadn’t had a heat for so, so long; he’d forgotten how intense even the early stages were. Dropping Martin’s wrist at last, he shambled to his now private room. Martin’s new single turned out to be just down the hall, and he waved at Douglas.

 

“I’ll just be a minute.”

 

“No bother.” Douglas let himself into the room, tried not to succumb to the urge to simply strip, then and there. Clothes felt all wrong against him now – but Martin was coming with the water… He struggled to retain his rationality.

 

After three quarters of an hour, Martin still hadn’t come back. Finally, though, there was a rap at the door – just as Douglas felt the first smear of wetness between his cheeks. _Fuck_. Just in time.

 

He strode over on slightly trembling legs, and threw the door open. “Hi, Martin.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Martin came in, looking for somewhere to deposit the bag of supplies he carried, and Douglas shut the door behind him. The captain had only taken two steps, though, when he froze, and slowly spun round to stare at Douglas, a weird, fixed look in his eyes.

 

“What?” Douglas asked, defensively, crossing his arms over his midriff. “ _What_? Why are you looking at me that way?” A spasm of his insides interrupted his hostile question, and without meaning to, he doubled over and moaned.

 

When he looked up, Martin’s pupils had dilated and he seemed – almost – scared. “You… haven’t got food poisoning…” he said slowly.

 

A tendril of fear coiled round Douglas’ heart. “Of course I have,” he blustered, trying to stand straight.

 

“No.” Martin looked him straight in the eyes. “You haven’t.” He shuddered, and clenched his fists. “Douglas. I can – I can _smell_ you.”

 

Douglas’ brain revved furiously in neutral for a moment. _Martin – with a mutated gene_? “You’re – you’re one too?” he asked, blankly. “But – you’re not allowed to fly as an unbonded Omega. Breaking regulations, Captain Crieff?” The tone was meant to be teasing, but there was a hint of accusation in it all the same.

 

Martin drew himself indignantly upright, though there was still something akin to… panic in his face. “Not Omega,” he said, taking three steps back. “A-alpha.”

 

“What?” Douglas was utterly confounded. “ _You_?” He’d never met a less likely Alpha than Martin.

 

Martin looked indignant. “I hide it well.”

 

“Don’t you just?” Douglas had never had the slightest suspicion. Shaking that thought aside, he continued. “You’re still breaking regulations, though. It’s just as illegal for an unbonded Alpha to fly as an Omega. Unless you’ve got an Omega squirrelled away that I don’t know about.” He ignored the odd flare of jealousy that whipped through him at the thought.

 

“Of course I haven’t.” Martin shook his head. “But… nothing was going to stop me flying… I’m very good at passing for a Beta, always have been – and after all, we’re such a minority – no one looks for the one percent...” He returned his brain to the issue at hand with an evident effort. “Douglas. What are you going to do? I can smell you - I thought I could, back in the lobby... but I told myself I was imagining things..." Martin took another reluctant inhale, and shivered. "God, it’s soon, isn’t it?”

 

“I didn’t intend for this to happen…” Douglas said, slowly, trying to keep his breathing deep and even. “My supplier – the heat suppressants he sold me were a dud batch. They don’t work.”

 

“Illegal heat suppressants?” Martin’s eyes were like saucers. “But – but that’s so dangerous, you don’t know what you might be taking –“

 

“Well, I can hardly ask the doctor for a legal prescription, can I?” Douglas snapped. “I’d have to tell him my occupation and – _oh_ –“ He groaned as he felt the first, telltale gush. The scent of him swirled through the room and Martin involuntarily stumbled towards him.

 

“Stay away –“ Douglas pleaded, holding up his hands. He was relieved when Martin halted, though he could see the effort it cost him in the captain’s trembling muscles, the way he held his head back, straining away from Douglas’ scent. “My ex- the second one – she’s on her way. She’ll help.” A panicked thought shot across his brain and he whipped his head round, staring at the door. “You can’t be here when she arrives, I don’t want a fight –“ He’d seen two Alphas encounter each other at the start of his heat once before, when Mel had run into Helena, turning up unexpectedly at his house to discuss alimony arrangements. They’d half-killed one another before he’d managed to shut Mel out of the room. He’d never forgotten her inhuman shrieks – and that had been the last time he’d seen her before tonight, always too humiliated to face her after that. He couldn’t let the same thing happen to Martin. “You have to go, please – I’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you sure?” Martin’s hands were clenched at his sides, and he now looked as if he was trying not to breathe. “She’ll get here in time? You know how risky unpartnered heat can be with your logic gone, and if you don’t know what drugs you’ve taken –“ He didn’t look as if he was trying to take advantage, though, Douglas thought. There was genuine concern in the captain’s eyes, and he hadn’t leapt to try and claim Douglas the way some Alphas might have done.

 

“She says she’ll make it.” Douglas took a step towards Martin, but then thought better of it. He could smell Martin, now, the Alpha pheromones responding to his own, and _God_ it was tempting… _No_. He shook his head. “Please go. I don’t – I don’t want to put you in a position you’ll… regret.” Never had he had to fight so hard to force words out of his mouth.

 

Martin nodded, and sidled past him towards the doorway. He still seemed to be holding his breath. “I’ll tell Carolyn you’re not fit to fly. That you’re ill.”

 

“Don’t tell her why.” Douglas hated having to plead with Martin, but his vulnerability had never been more acute.

 

Martin, though, barked a laugh. “And have to explain to her why I know you’re in heat? That _I’m_ flying just as illegally as you are?” He shook his head. “We’re in the same boat, here. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

 

“Promise.” Douglas’ wave of relief was profound, sweeping.

 

Martin reached for the door handle, but paused. “I’m just down the hall,” he said, cautiously, not looking round. “Not so that – I mean, I’m not trying to invite myself.” He had flushed red – Douglas could see the crimson spreading down his neck, the tremor in his wrist as he clung to the door. “Just. If you need anything. Call me. I can – I can always leave stuff outside the room for you.”

 

“Thank you.” Douglas was strangely touched, but then his guts twisted again and he whined. “Ow.”

 

Martin half-turned, everything in him clearly telling him to help the Omega in distress, but Douglas backed away. “You – you have to go.” Another few moments and Douglas knew neither of them would be able to be responsible for their actions – and he would _not_ put his captain in that position.

 

Martin hesitated, clearly warring with his instincts, but nodded. “OK.” He hastily turned the handle and exited, and Douglas locked the door behind him; but as he did so there was an odd _thump_ from outside. It was only after a quarter of an hour that he’d realised what it likely was – the sound of a head being leant heavily against a wall. But footsteps had walked away not long after: Martin was gone. For a moment, the realisation filled Douglas with something almost like desolation – but then he felt the shape of his phone in his pocket, and tried to focus on the reassurance it offered. _Mel’s coming. You’re not on your own._

 

Three more hours passed before Douglas truly began to panic. The squirming pain in his insides had given way to the horrible hollowness and yearning that he hadn’t felt for years on end – even when he’d been with Helena, after that hideous clash with Mel had occurred, he’d insisted on suppressing his heats; it was one of the unspoken reasons she’d left him. He hated feeling this way – out of control. Mel knew that. Mel had never let him suffer when they’d been bonded…

 

At last he caved, and texted her. _How are you getting on? It’s started._ He hesitated, but then a pang from his now soaking nether regions prompted him to add _Please say you’ll be here soon…._ He’d never felt so desperate, never so lost and vulnerable.

 

So when he received the triumphant reply in return that simply said _Well, now you’ll know what it’s like to be turned on and left wanting. Bastard._ – he wasn’t surprised that he had to run into the bathroom and vomit. She wasn’t coming. This was her revenge for Helena. He was all alone.


	2. B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now features a lovely drawing by hollyashes (hollyashes.tumblr.com) - to whom many thanks for giving me permission to link it here. Her Martin/Douglas art is brilliant and definitely worth a peruse - do visit her Tumblr!

As Douglas left the bathroom, topless for the first time (his clothes had been unappealing for hours even before he’d thrown up on them) he froze on the spot almost before realising why he’d done so. He jerked his head up, and sniffed again. _Alpha_. A prickle of fear coursed down his spine. Somewhere nearby, someone was waiting for him… Anxiously, he scanned the room. The door was still locked – no one could be hiding in here – and he was on the third floor. He took another step forward, and the floorboards creaked.

 

“Douglas?”

 

 _Thank God_. “Martin.”

 

From the corridor, the captain continued. “Are you – are you alright? Only…” An anxious huff. “Only I know she hasn’t arrived – and I – well, please don’t think I’m interfering – I’m worried…” He was speaking quietly, quickly. The voice he used when there was something he felt he _must_ say, but didn’t want to.

 

Douglas walked to the door on shaky legs, drawn more by the scent of Martin than by his own volition. He managed not to open it, though, pressing his cheek and hands against it and leaning on the cool wood. “It’s – it’s OK,” he gritted out, as another searing pang shook through him. “She’s… not coming.” The rejection, the humiliation of it, stung him all over again.

 

There was a pause, then Martin replied, sounding panicked. “What are you going to do?”

 

Douglas came up blank. No one else was nearby. No one else would care. He shrugged and tried to sound dismissive. “I’ll manage.”

 

“Douglas…”

 

“It’s fine.” He screwed his eyes shut, and whimpered without meaning to, unconsciously thrusting a hand between his legs, undoing his belt and flies.

 

“I can smell you – you’re – you’re in distress –“ Martin’s words were a babble now, and Douglas knew the captain was pressed to the other side of the door by the proximity of his voice, the sudden intensity of his scent. “I – please – I can’t…” The captain’s words trailed away. “I can’t take it. Knowing you’re alone. You – you shouldn’t be.”

 

Douglas shut his eyes, plumbed the very core of his resilience to answer. “It’s not _you_ saying that, Martin. Just your hormones.” _You idiot. Let him have you_ , his mind railed, but he clenched his fists.

 

Martin gave a half-sob in the corridor, and Douglas’ hand was on the lock without a second thought, his body telling him to comfort the Alpha. He stilled his fingers, though – _be rational_ –

 

Martin gasped out a hasty babble. “Not – just my hormones – I’ve – I’ve wanted to ask you out for _months_ – but I couldn’t, because then you’d find out I was an Alpha, and then you’d stop me flying, but now you’re an Omega and you’re – you’re in trouble – and everything in me… oh God, Douglas, please let me help, please…” His words became a garbled whimper as the first officer listened incredulously.

 

“You’ve wanted -?” Douglas’ mind couldn’t process what Martin was saying.

 

“You. Always you.”

 

Douglas’ brain might have been caught in the haze of heat, but he still knew whether or not he was being lied to. And Martin – Martin was being truthful –

 

He clicked the latch open, but didn’t even get the chance to open the door before Martin was flinging himself through it, locking it behind him, scanning the room automatically for competition. He looked half-crazed, unhinged with the pheromones zinging through him. “Douglas –“

 

Douglas shuddered, the yearning hollow in him responding to the scent of Martin, so strong now that they were in the same room. “Are – are you sure about this?” He tried to resist, but couldn’t think clearly – couldn’t stop himself – He took a step towards the captain, was reaching for him…

 

“More sure than I’ve been about – about anything – _oh_!” Douglas had leapt at him, was pressing his neck against Martin’s nose, letting him scent him properly for the first time. He felt the captain’s trembling body go still in his grasp as the pheromones filled his senses.

 

[ ](http://hollyashes.tumblr.com/post/119397531433/first-illustration-for-jay-eagles-fic-suppression)

 

“ _Douglas_.” Breathlessly, Martin echoed his actions, shifting so that Douglas could bend to run his nose along his jawline, up to just below his ear where the scent gland was strongest. He could feel Martin’s erection bulging against his hip, pushing firmly already, and suddenly nothing was enough, the spicy, musky scent filling his brain, and he shoved Martin firmly towards the bed – there had never been any of the submissive Omega stereotype about Douglas.

 

“ _Far_ too many clothes,” he growled, yanking Martin’s shirt from his back so that all the buttons flew off and pinged in eight different directions across the room. Martin didn’t seem to care, if the haste with which he whipped off his jeans was anything to go by. He tugged Douglas tightly to him, pushing his nose once again at the Omega’s neck.

 

“You smell – incredible,” Martin gasped, frantically running his hands over Douglas’ back, yanking Douglas' belt out of his trousers.

 

“Lie down.” Martin did so, following Douglas’ orders and bare to his gaze at last. Desperate though he was, Douglas took a moment to appreciate the sight before him – Martin spread out like a feast, pale and freckly and slender and _stunning_. His for the devouring, with a flushed and ready cock rising from a tangle of russet hair at his groin –

 

Suddenly Douglas couldn’t wait a moment longer. He divested himself of trousers and pants in a sinuous shove, kicking them unheeded away from the bed. With one spring, he leapt to straddle Martin, scrabbling for the Alpha’s cock to lower himself down, needing more than he felt he’d ever _needed_ in his life. But – “ _Hey!_ ” – Martin’s hands had flashed out, grabbed at his thighs, stopping him. “Why -?”

 

“Wait, please –“ Martin’s eyes were screwed shut with the effort of resisting, but then he opened them to meet Douglas’ frantic gaze. “I need – don’t I need to check you’re ready? I don’t – don’t want to hurt you –“

 

Douglas huffed a breathless laugh in spite of himself. “I’m ready, trust me –“ He tried to lower himself downwards again, but Martin, surprisingly strong, was preventing him.

 

“No, please – I have to check.” And then Martin had let him go with one hand, but was reaching up and back and – _oh_. Martin’s fingers – three at once – sank deeply into him, sliding easily through his slick to glide inside him. Douglas flung his head back and keened, even the suggestion of something penetrating him barrelling him near to his first orgasm.

 

“I’m ready, for God’s sake – please, please…” He’d have died to hear himself begging like this normally, but right now he didn’t care, didn’t want to grasp anything beyond the urgent need to be filled and fucked and sated.

 

Martin instantly responded to the distress emanating from him. “I’m sorry – I just –“ He withdrew his fingers, making them both shudder. “I haven’t ever – I’ve never done this.“ He looked blindly at his dripping fingers, then without a second thought instinctively sucked them into his mouth, lapping Douglas’ juices with the expression a starving man might wear if given a hunk of bread. But Douglas didn’t seize his advantage.

 

“You’ve never…?” It was about the only thing Martin could have said that would have given him pause. He tried to draw back, despite his body screaming at him just to press downwards, to impale himself. “Martin…”

 

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Martin’s face looked crazed, almost furious. He grabbed for Douglas’ wrist and held him tight.

 

Douglas swithered. “I can’t be your first. You must – there must have been someone before now.” He watched as Martin drunkenly shook his head. “But – you’re in your thirties. All Alphas come across someone – at some point – whether they want to or not, they get caught up…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be your _mistake_.” He jerked his arm free, half-fell off the bed.

 

Martin gasped, his pupils so dilated that they almost obliterated his irises. “No,” he burbled. “No. I never – always managed to resist. I knew the consequences – if anyone knew I was an Alpha, I couldn’t fly – so I walked away… every time, every hotel we’ve stayed in – if I smelt a hint of heat, I turned and ran…” He shook from head to toe, strained his head towards Douglas. “I could always resist. I didn’t want to be… mindless…” A sob broke in his throat. “But it’s you… Douglas, it’s you. Don’t make me – don’t make me hide. Not anymore. Please. Please.”

 

Without a second thought, Douglas was stumbling back towards him, the need to comfort and soothe paramount within him. He crushed Martin’s head to his chest, tangled his fingers through his hair, then bent to meet him in a first, bruising kiss. He felt Martin’s start of shock, but wouldn’t let him go, tasting himself in Martin’s mouth and delving deeply with his tongue until Martin melted against him.

 

At last he broke free, the urgency within becoming unbearable. He looked into Martin’s eyes, needing to check one last time. “Can I?”

 

“For fuck’s sake.” Martin sounded, just for a moment, like his normal exasperated self, and then he tugged Douglas into the bed next to him, rolled on top, and sank into his slickened hole without a second thought.

 

Both of them cried out as Martin pierced Douglas, a driving stroke that ploughed right to the core of him. “Alright?” Martin choked, and Douglas gave a wordless moan of approval that seemed to be enough for Martin to take as a signal to begin fucking him in earnest. He thrust back and forward, tempo building, and reached between them to run his fingers over Douglas’ much smaller cock. It was all it took for Douglas to arch beneath him and come, having been on the edge for far too long already. His orgasm took him by surprise, and he gasped and quaked his way through it, feeling himself ramping up for another almost as soon as he’d finished.

 

Martin had hummed his appreciation as he’d felt Douglas spurt under his hand. “Yes,” he whispered, and pushed harder, driving Douglas up the bed with the force of his ardour.

 

Douglas could do little except wrap his arms tightly around Martin’s neck, strain his face upwards to nose again beneath Martin’s ear, the desperately arousing scent fuelling his passion, sensation pounding through him as the captain breached his vaginal opening for the first time. “Ah!” Douglas gasped, the pleasure-pain more intense than he’d ever known – he’d never waited this long between heats before, and it had been so many, many months since he’d last been touched there.

 

Martin had felt Douglas opening inside for him too, judging by the whimper he uttered. He ground deeper, ceasing to draw back, circling his hips as he strove to push further in. The motion teased all round both of Douglas’ most sensitive circles of muscle, and he shouted in ecstasy, wrapping his legs round the Alpha’s, straining to pull him in even as Martin shoved.

 

Martin still hadn’t removed his dominant hand from Douglas’ cock, and his thumb suddenly moved, slipping over the cum-smeared head of him. It was enough to take the FO by surprise and he yelped into a second climax, spasming around Martin’s cock, still buried deep within him. He clutched Martin as tightly as he could, unable to breathe for several moments before he came off his high. He realised Martin was muttering rapidly, his mouth pressed near to Douglas’ ear.

 

“You feel so amazing, oh, Douglas, never imagined, never knew it could be like _this_ , oh God, please, please – want to knot you, keep you, make you feel so good –“

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Douglas harshed out, voice strained and rough, but then the thought occurred to him – _not like this_ – He planted his hands flat against the planes of Martin’s chest and resisted. To his credit, despite his passion, Martin registered the shift instantly and halted. Douglas was secretly amazed at his self-control, but then – the captain had always been a stickler for rules, for etiquette –

 

“What is it?” Martin’s voice was strained, and Douglas could feel him trembling above him. “Have I hurt you?”

 

“No, no,” Douglas panted. “It’s just – I can feel you – you’re getting close, I think –“ It was true; he could feel Martin’s knot, starting to demand more from both of them, just inflating enough to begin catching _deliciously_ at his rim. Martin shifted again then, unconsciously, making both of them shudder and Douglas’ eyes rolled back for a second before he managed to speak again. “I – I don’t want you to be uncomfortable –“

 

“I’m fine…” Martin moved into him again, making them both groan, but Douglas pushed at him with his hands once more.

 

“Steady.” Douglas reached up, brushed a curl from Martin’s eyes. “You won’t be comfortable for long if you knot me like this, trust me.” He drew a warm hand over the Alpha’s cheekbone, caressing him, a strangely protective feeling of affection rushing through his veins. “Pull out, just for a moment. I’ll show you a better way.” He’d never been someone’s first – had never been in a position to teach. It was strangely arousing, knowing that for once he genuinely had the advantage of Martin totally and completely.

 

Martin hesitated, but then did as he said – shifting back so he just about managed to pull his cock free. The knot caught as he went, making Douglas wince, and Martin instantly gasped an apology. “I’m sorry – Douglas – God –“

 

“It’s fine.” Douglas tugged Martin’s head downwards to by his jawline, urging the Alpha to scent him, to calm him. It worked, and Martin stopped quivering – though he was making little rabbit hops with his hips, stimulating himself against the FO’s groin. The feeling was intensely pleasurable, and Douglas’ desperation returned full-force.

 

Hastily, he rolled on to his side. “Here – spoon me,” he said, none-too-gently yanking at Martin to get him to comply. Fortunately Martin quickly grasped what he was aiming at, and did as Douglas bade him – snuggling in tight behind him, his cock instantly slipping exactly where it was designed to go as Douglas raised his upper leg up to his chest to make room. The Alpha sank back in, and Douglas groaned his contentment. “ _God_ , yes.” He felt Martin lean forward, snuffling longingly at his scent glands before licking a stripe up his neck, and suddenly Douglas couldn’t wait any longer. He reached down to jack rapidly at his own shaft, and growled “Come on – I want you, don’t stop until – until you knot me –“

 

“ _Fuck_.” Douglas had never heard his buttoned-up, proper captain swear before tonight – but in fairness, if ever he was going to, during the first heat he’d ever experienced would be the time. Martin was spurred into rapid motion, pumping in and out, the speed of his movements stirring up the slick between Douglas’ thighs and spreading the heady scent of Alpha and Omega in rut thick in the air around them. Both of them were panting hard, and Douglas could sense that he was losing Martin – the captain’s rationality diminishing, instinct taking over. Martin’s hands were grabbing him tightly and _God_ it felt good – just what Douglas had needed, to be pinned and filled… and…

 

“ _Douglas_.” Martin’s knot ballooned outwards, stoppering Douglas completely as he came – and came and came. Douglas could feel the hot spurts, splattering inside him.

 

“Fuck,” Douglas swore. _Protection – he’s not wearing any_ … He cursed himself. His actions were inexcusable. He could forgive Martin, this was all obviously new to him, but he was an old hand at this, he should have known… _Damn_.

 

But then the thought of it was driven straight out of his head as he felt Martin’s teeth beginning to clamp around his neck.

 

“Martin – _no_!” Without thinking, he flung his elbow up and backwards, feeling the _crunch_ as he connected with Martin’s cheekbone, knocking him sideways. Martin recoiled, tugging painfully hard at the knot still buried deep within Douglas, and he yelped.

 

“What?” The Alpha sounded drugged, drunk on the power of the heat in his veins - nothing like the prim captain Douglas thought he knew.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Douglas replaced his elbow with a clumsy hand, patting inelegantly at Martin’s face behind him. “But – you can’t – you mustn’t – don’t bite me.”

 

“Don’t bite?” Martin seemed bewildered, unable to take Douglas’ words in, and Douglas felt a twitch of irritation in spite of knowing logically that it really wasn’t Martin’s fault.

 

“No,” he replied, trying to be gentle. “You mustn’t bond with me. You can’t want that.” A twist of sadness coiled untidily through his insides. “Besides, it’s no decision to make in the throes of heat.”

 

“You don’t want me?” Martin’s voice was wounded, but he still didn’t sound enough like his usual self for Douglas to believe the emotion in it. Martin was heat-high, that was all.

 

“It’s not that…” He broke off as he felt another climax seizing Martin’s attention, pausing until the Alpha had finished gasping his release into the back of Douglas’ neck. Martin gave a half-sob, and a wash of unexpected tenderness nearly undid Douglas completely. He reached back, wrapped his arm awkwardly around Martin’s waist, holding him tight. “It’s not that I don’t want you,” he repeated. “I just know you’re not thinking straight, and I won’t make the same mistake. Not again.”

 

“Mistake?”

 

“How do you think I ended up bonded the first time?” Douglas shook his head, trying to ignore the waves of arousal building once more in him now – Martin had resumed making the little circles with his hips, and the motion was doing something excruciatingly good to Douglas’ insides. “It was done in the midst of heat – my first ever with an Alpha. No discussion, just two teenagers acting on instinct – not reason – not –“ He gave up and released Martin, groping desperately again for his cock, but Martin beat him to it, a warm palm grasping him again and pulling urgently until he groaned and thrust into the clutch, tugging against Martin’s knot as he did so. That tipped them both over the edge simultaneously, and Martin cried out as they came. Douglas felt the warmth surge within him once more, and groaned. He’d still not mentioned the lack of a condom – but then Martin realised it too.

 

“I’m not wearing – oh Christ, Douglas, what – what have I done?” Martin sounded terrified, but before he could reply, Martin was rushing onwards. “I’m – I’m so sorry, I didn’t think – I didn’t stop to consider –“

 

“Shh, shh,” Douglas soothed, reaching for Martin’s hand and drawing it to his lips to kiss. (He tried not to notice the electrifying taste of his own release coating the knuckles.) “I realised, but too late. It’s my fault – this is all new to you… If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

 

“No…” Martin seemed determined to disagree. “I’m the Alpha – I should have…”

 

“Hush.” Douglas was firm. “It’ll be OK.” He kissed Martin’s hand again, over and over, until Martin was shivering against him once more. “I’m old –“

 

“You’re not –“ Martin tried to protest, but Douglas stopped him.

 

“I am. I’m nowhere near as… fertile as a younger man would be.” Douglas blushed in spite of himself. “And I happen to know I’m clean – I got tested after Helena… dallied about with her new Omega.” The thought of that betrayal made bile rise in his gorge all over again, but he swallowed it back to continue. “And since I’m your first, you’ll be clean too.”

 

“But – there’s still a chance…”

 

“Of pregnancy. Yes.” Douglas tried to bat away the unexpected, unreasonable surge of lustful _want_ that thought sparked in him. _No,_ he told himself firmly. _You don’t want Martin’s child. That wouldn’t be fair to_ anyone _involved._ “It’s OK,” he said, aloud. “You can get me a pill to deal with that – we’ll be in time if you go first thing tomorrow.”

 

Martin’s knot began to deflate at last, and the two of them shuddered as he half-slipped free, a gush of ejaculate mixed with Douglas’ own lubrication following him. Fresh scent billowed into the room, and Douglas inhaled deeply in spite of himself. Martin seemed to be processing what he’d said. “Tomorrow morning?” There was an odd note to his voice that Douglas couldn’t identify.

 

“Yes,” he said, rolling over so he was face-to-face with the captain. “Why?”

 

Martin looked desperately unhappy. “I don’t – I can’t –“ He took a deep, anguished breath, and cautiously reached out for Douglas’ face to stroke. “I can’t just _leave_ you.”

 

Douglas’ heart did an odd flip at the feel – and smell – of Martin’s hand on his temple. He closed his eyes, trying to allow himself to let go, to lean into the caress of this unexpected Alpha. Part of him was still crying out in disbelief at the mad turn events had taken – this morning if anyone had said to him that by midnight he’d be curled up in his captain’s arms, he’d have said they were insane. And yet now that he was here – it felt peculiarly _right_. Of course, perhaps it was just instinct and hormones telling him that this was all OK, all meant to be – but for now, he was even… happy.

 

He tried to rally his brain to assuaging Martin’s muttered fear. “You have to leave me,” he said, quietly, kissing at the Alpha’s palm. “I need the emergency contraceptive. And – unless you’ve magically got some in your flight bag already – you need condoms, because we might feel sated now, but in a couple of hours we won’t, I can tell you.” He wrapped his arms tightly round Martin, trying to urge him to relax. “You won’t have to go away for very long.”

 

Martin whined, burying his head in Douglas’ chest. “I don’t know if I can,” he quaked. “I just – just want to stay here. Next to you.”

 

In spite of his attempts at detachment, something of the same neediness was throbbing in Douglas’ chest, too. “But you don’t want me to have your baby.” Douglas tried to tease, to make light of it. “I don’t think the universe is anywhere near ready for an unholy union of our genes, do you?”

 

“Of course not,” Martin said, but Douglas detected a touch of wistfulness behind the scoff.

 

“Hey,” he said. “This is – well, I don’t know about you, but it’s all incredibly overwhelming for _me_ , so goodness knows how you’re dealing with it.” He smiled, trying to reassure. “It’ll all be OK, I promise.” He leant in and kissed Martin, a slow, smooth slide of tongues and lips that sent a pulse straight to his groin, shagged out though he felt for the moment. Drawing back again, he sighed. “I never thought I’d say this, but – well –“ He met Martin’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said. “For not letting me suffer. I’m – well, I’m more grateful than I can say.”

 

Martin blushed, shrugging. “Thank _you_ ,” he said. “This is – well, if it had to be anyone, the first time… well, don’t let this stoke your already dangerously sizeable ego,” he grinned, a touch of his usual humour in evidence for the first time that evening. “But I’m so glad – _so_ glad it’s you.” He kissed Douglas again, tongues flickering together.

 

Douglas was oddly gratified. “Well, I’m glad that you don’t hate me.” A spear of nervousness pierced him. “Yet, at least.”

 

Martin shook his head, and snuggled more closely against him. “Never.” He seemed to be craving Douglas’ embrace – it was strange, to have to be the dominant, protective one in a heat-pairing, Douglas thought, but he was finding he really, really liked it. He smoothed a gentle hand over Martin’s soft hair, comfortingly.

 

“Why don’t you sleep?” he suggested. “While we get the chance. The next wave won’t be that far off.”

 

“Really?” Martin looked up at him, so young and innocent in the moment that Douglas’ breath caught, lust whipping through him as devastatingly as lightning striking a dry tree. He nodded, trying not to show the strength of his emotion.

 

“Really. But – sleep, now, love.” He kissed Martin’s nose. “You’ll know when we’re ready… to go again, I promise.”

 

“OK.” Martin yawned, and relaxed into Douglas’ chest. “You sleep too,” he commanded, a touch of his normal captain’s bossiness showing for an instant.

 

“Aye-aye,” Douglas chuckled, and Martin blushed. “Goodnight.”

 

“’Night,” Martin murmured, and closed his eyes.

 

It wasn’t until Douglas had nearly drifted off to sleep that he suddenly realised that he’d called Martin ‘love’. And Martin hadn’t seemed to mind.


	3. Γ

Douglas stirred and woke, three hours later. He was ready ( _God_ , he was ready) for another round; and it seemed that Martin, even in slumber, had sensed it. The captain was pressed tightly to him, thrusting unconsciously at his thigh. He was still asleep, Douglas could tell, but his cock was gloriously hard and he was frowning fretfully as his hips twitched.

 

Douglas rolled over and reached for him, slickness left behind on the sheet ( _ugh_ , a detached part of his mind remarked, but the rest of him seemed not to care). “Martin.” He barely had to touch Martin's face before the Alpha blinked awake, bleariness fighting with arousal.

 

“Oh, God, come here…” Martin’s voice was husky with sex and sleep.

 

Without a second thought, Douglas threw his leg over – but then Martin stopped him again. “What?! This is getting to be one of your worst ever habits,” the FO complained, needily.

 

“I don’t – we don’t have a condom…”

 

“We’re getting me the pill in the morning anyway.” Douglas tried once more, but Martin was still holding him back.

 

“I… don’t want to make it worse.” Martin looked utterly torn, and a quaking sigh escaped him. “Please. I – we mustn’t.”

 

Despite the primal urge jabbing him onwards, Douglas retreated, shifting back to his side of the bed. He lay still for a moment as Martin hugged him close and scented him, but then was humiliated to realise that he was whimpering. He tried to choke off the pathetic noises he was uttering, but he didn’t seem to be able to; the yearning gap in him was too empty, the desire too great…

 

“Douglas…” Martin definitely sounded distressed now. He moved Douglas’ head to rest at his neck, presumably hoping the Alpha scent would calm him; but although it helped, it didn’t make the agonising desperation burning in Douglas’ chest disappear. “Shh… please… I’m sorry…”

 

“It’s fine,” Douglas tried to say, but it came out as a hiccup. _Christ_. He’d never be able to look at the captain again after this.

 

“Here.” Martin reached and spread the first officer's legs, and for a second, Douglas’ heart leapt – thinking Martin was giving in – but instead, Martin’s fingers, three at once, slipped back into him. The Alpha thrust them back and forth, but whilst they were enticing, sending a light tickle through Douglas' pelvis, they did nothing to satiate the gaping void that seemed to constitute his very core.

 

After a minute, Martin looked up at him. “It’s not working, is it?”

 

Douglas hesitated, but his need drove him to speak. “No. I’m sorry.”

 

“Then let’s try this, instead…” In one sinuous movement, Martin twisted and shoved the duvet off, propelling himself down the bed. He bent between Douglas’ legs and –

 

“God! Martin!” Martin was licking and sucking at him, burying his tongue as deeply as he could within Douglas' hole. The shock of it notched the Omega's excitement through the roof, and without a moment to even be aware that it was about to happen, he came – three little spurts that dampened his stomach. Martin didn’t even pause; he continued to lick his way into Douglas’ excruciatingly sensitive arse, probing and tickling. Douglas stared down as the Alpha’s hand blindly groped and found his small cock, jerking him rapidly towards a second climax. As he shivered his way through it a couple of minutes later, Martin raised his head, kissed his inner thigh, and then wiped his dripping chin.

 

“Is that – OK?”

 

“Yes, yes!” Douglas just resisted the temptation to grab Martin’s hair to pull him back down. Luckily Martin saw the keenness in his expression and asked no further questions – just bent back to continue his intensely pleasurable ministrations. His tongue flicked in rippling waves all round Douglas’ rim, then intermittently plunged deeper, causing Douglas to half-whine with the stimulation. Douglas’ thighs shook, and he ran a quaking hand through Martin’s hair, trying to show his appreciation of his efforts.

 

At length, Martin sat back. “My jaw’s cramping, sorry…”

 

“It’s fine.” Douglas’ need hadn’t abated, but he equally shied away from anything that would cause Martin discomfort. He squirmed, and tried to push his own fingers into himself – but it was nothing but a tease, and he growled in frustration.

 

“I’ve had an idea.” Martin leant forward again. “Lie back. Close your eyes.”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Douglas did so. He trusted Martin with his life – he’d realised that in St Petersburg. Why wouldn’t he trust him with his heat?

 

Martin probed again with just three fingers, though, and Douglas had to bite back the urge to snap that it wouldn’t be enough, the urgency at irascible fever-pitch in his body. He managed to stay silent, which was just as well - since before he knew what was happening, Martin had fitted a fourth finger inside him, pushing in and pulling out, a fucking motion that felt on the cusp of something… marvellous. “Your thumb,” Douglas gasped. “Please… I think – _oh_!”

 

Martin had obeyed, and now his whole hand – his _hand_ – was inside the Omega. Douglas gasped, high and shocked – no one had ever done something like it to him before, and his logical reflex was that it should hurt. But heat had left him pliant and empty, and there was no pain… but nor was there total satisfaction. “Not… quite…” he murmured, reluctant to criticise, but unsatisfied still.

 

“I know,” Martin whispered, thrusting his hand more rapidly. “Just… wait…”

 

Douglas did, returning to stroking his own cock before Martin’s hand knocked his palm aside to continue. Douglas was flexing his hips, matching Martin’s pace, and he could feel his whole being coiling tighter… tighter…

 

“I’m going to come,” he moaned. “You’re going to make me – oh, just a little more, more, _please_ –“

 

“Yes,” he heard Martin hiss, and then the Alpha’s flattened hand inside him pulled down, curled up – into a fist that was just like a knot, filling him and –

 

“ _Ohhhh_.” He was there, he was coming: clamping down hard around Martin’s fist, he could feel his body milking the pseudo-knot avidly, sending waves of glorious bliss through his groin and lower back. “Oh God,” he whimpered softly as he came down again, his cock at last softening slightly, desperation diminishing.

 

It was only then that he realised that Martin was in some distress himself; his face was red and he was biting his lip, frowning and pained-looking. When he looked down, Douglas could see why – Martin was so hard that his cock was almost purple, and with both hands on Douglas he hadn’t been able to assuage the ache. A gush of tenderness washed through Douglas’ soul, and without a second thought he reached to draw Martin back up the bed, wincing as his tug pulled Martin’s fist out of him. “Come here,” he said, ignoring the twinge. “Let me help you, now.”

 

“Please,” Martin whispered, looking overcome and lost, not even moving to touch his erection. He allowed Douglas to shift him into a seated position, legs stretched out in front of him. Douglas could feel the captain’s eyes on him as he rolled over, stroking a hot palm up Martin’s thigh.

 

“You’re OK,” Douglas soothed, worried by the Alpha’s trembling. “I’ve got you.” And he sank his mouth down on to Martin’s cock, swallowing as much as he could in one go.

 

Martin wailed in surprise, and his shaft twitched violently over Douglas’ tongue. Douglas wrapped his hand around the base, where he couldn’t fit Martin’s knot between his lips, and squeezed lightly, attempting as best he could to simulate the silky clutch of an Omega in heat. He bobbed his head, slowly at first, trying to accustom the captain to the sensation; but at Martin’s panting breaths, he gained speed, deducing correctly the enthusiasm Martin was radiating for his task.

 

Martin heaved intermittent deep breaths, but gradually his panting became shallow and desperate. “I’m – I’m nearly, nearly there…” He stroked Douglas’ hair, urged him a little faster, his hips writhing outside his control a little. “You should – Douglas, I’m going to – Douglas!”

 

He tried to pull the Omega back, but Douglas resisted the tugging on his hair. Instead he licked a deliberate tongue across Martin’s slit, wiggled it… and then Martin cried out and came, spurting enormous quantities of semen straight into his mouth.

 

Douglas had been prepared for the taste of Martin’s climax, but not the… amount, and he was forced to draw back as he swallowed what he could. Martin’s second spurt went over his face, and the third spattered a white line onto his chest; but Douglas didn’t care. It felt… right for Martin to mark him like that, as if he’d never get enough of the taste and the smell and the feel.

 

Martin seemed to enjoy the picture he'd made too, if his expression were anything to go by. With a hungry look in his eyes, he pounced and wrestled Douglas backwards to the bed, leaning over him and then smearing his nose through the spunk coating Douglas’ cheek. He pinned Douglas’ shoulders down and kissed him deeply, a satisfied moan rumbling from his chest as he sought out every last taste of himself from the first officer’s mouth.

 

Douglas submitted gladly, going limp under Martin's faux-attack – it felt incredible to be held down, to be pinioned and owned. The Omega in him yearned to shiver and bend his neck; he wanted to be held, possessed, taken. Martin’s feelings clearly corresponded to Douglas' own – he sniffed longingly again at Douglas’ jawline, licking there, clearly revelling in the Omega’s smell mingling with his own ejaculate: the primeval urge to claim and keep somewhat satisfied. Douglas was alert in case Martin was again tempted to bite him (part of his mind wheedling that _it wouldn’t be so bad_ – though he could conquer the desire, just about) but the Alpha resisted, settling instead for scenting Douglas long and profoundly before sinking down on to his chest.

 

Douglas was growing drowsy again. “It’s the middle of the night,” he murmured. “Want to try for some more sleep?”

 

Martin shifted. “OK,” he said, dopily, helping Douglas to reposition himself back on to the pillows. The fussiness would have driven the FO up the wall on a normal day; now, in the midst of his heat, it just felt comforting and _right_. “I’ve set the alarm for seven – I should be able to find a pharmacy nearby at that time.”

 

Douglas whined without meaning to – the thought of Martin _leaving_ was abhorrent. But Martin kissed him, and Douglas' whimper ceased. “Sorry,” he said, straight into Martin’s mouth. “It’s necessary, I know.”

 

“I hate it.” Martin clutched him tightly, smearing his remaining come over both of their torsos.

 

 _Intentional or unintentional?_ Douglas wondered for a moment, before deciding he didn’t care. “It won’t be for long.” Douglas nosed Martin's neck. “Please don’t make it long.” His heat was full-blown, now, he registered vaguely. He couldn’t imagine ever not _needing_ as he did now, even though logically he knew that he wasn’t normally so clingy. It was like not being able to recall the sensation of goosebumps in a hot climate, or of sweat when you were freezing – he needed, and that was all there ever had been or would be…

 

He was moaning a little again, pressed into Martin’s chest, anticipating the parting. “Sleep, darling.” Martin stroked a firm hand over his jaw, snaked an arm round his back. “Shh. Sleep.”

 

And Douglas did.


	4. Δ

Morning dawned, and Martin woke before Douglas. The first thing Douglas knew about it was being woken by the _click_ as Martin softly opened the door to the hotel corridor. “Martin?” he called, blearily, reaching across and finding the bed empty next to him. His distress instantly kicked him fully alert. “Martin?”

 

“Shh, it’s OK.” Martin paced hastily to his side, running a soothing hand through his tousled hair. “It’s early. I wanted to go out before you were awake.”

 

Douglas cringed as the hollow ache resounded through him again, as deep as a note from a struck gong. “You’ve found a pharmacy that's open?” At Martin’s nod, he reached for his wallet. “Take my card… the drugs, without a prescription they’re expensive…”

 

Martin looked horrified. “I won’t.” He gripped Douglas’ chin commandingly, and Douglas distractedly thought he’d never looked more like a captain. “It’s my fault too.”

 

“And I’m the one who gets paid.” Douglas struggled to his elbows. “I’m the one who’d have to live with the consequences.”

 

Martin’s eyes blazed with sudden rage. “Because you think I’d just abandon you with _my child_?” he asked, anger throbbing in his tones.

 

The words cut Douglas to the core. “ _Your_ child?” he spat. “ _Ours_ , I think you mean.” The memory of Emily and Verity, both taken from him, was vivid in his brain. “Or perhaps you agree with the courts. They think an Omega’s just a breeding machine, too.”

 

“Of course I don’t think that!” Martin threw his hands up, looking aghast. “And that’s – that’s not what the courts think…”

 

“Oh, really?” Douglas sat up, hugged his knees. “Then why does the Alpha always get custody?” He stared away from Martin. “Why don’t I have my – my daughters anymore…?”

 

“Douglas…” The rage had gone, and Martin had dropped to his knees beside the bed. “Douglas…” He stroked tentatively at Douglas’ arm. “We’ll split the cost, OK? It’s… it’s both our responsibilities.”

 

“… OK.” After a hesitation, Douglas reached for him on instinct, and Martin hugged him tightly. “I just… please, don’t be long?” The thought of Martin’s absence – the necessity behind it… everything was making him tense and snappish.

 

“Of course I won’t,” Martin murmured, and kissed his cheek. “I… don’t know how I can stand it either…” He drew in a deep, shaky breath.

 

Douglas pushed at him. “Then go, for God’s sake, or… or I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Having Martin pressed against him again was sending blood to his groin, was making his heart beat faster, and he knew it had to be having the same effect on the Alpha.

 

“I’ll be as fast as I can,” Martin promised, and like that – he was gone, leaving Douglas curled in a miserable ball on the bed, aching and alone. He thought of Martin, of how this time yesterday he’d never have looked at him twice, would never _ever_ have suspected that somewhere in his small ginger form slept an Alpha – an inexperienced, occasionally hesitant Alpha, but one who had to possess the strongest willpower that Douglas had ever come across.

 

But then his thoughts strayed back to Verity and Emily, how after ten years of marriage his first wife had simply walked out, taking Verity with her, and how he’d still not learnt his lesson and had let Mel disappear with Emily a decade later. He’d never seen Verity again; the courts hadn’t cared, had listened to his first wife’s unproven allegations about his drinking… and when he’d threatened to fight for Emily, Mel had simply had to sweetly mention that of course she’d be legally obligated to point out that he was now an unbonded Omega flying against all the regulations, and he’d had to back down.

 

He hugged his stomach, rubbed a palm over the empty space where Emily and Verity had grown, feeling their loss as sharply as he ever had. Even now, Martin’s genes were exploring deep within him, he knew; a world of potential life was already inside him, conception practically guaranteed despite what he’d said to Martin about his age; he wouldn’t still be having heats if he weren’t somewhat fertile… all he’d have to do would be just let it happen, and he’d have another child, another baby to love and croon over and care for…

 

 _And lose_ , his brain reminded him, and he hardened his heart and clung on and waited for Martin to come back.

 

* * *

 

It took more than an hour for Martin to return. In the time, Douglas had managed a shower, had even swapped the bedsheets for clean ones. He’d heard a chambermaid’s cart rattle past outside, and had taken the risk that she was a Beta to poke his head out and shakily ask for replacements. The odds were heavily in his favour, after all, and he was right – no look of suspicion or realisation had crossed her features, and she’d handed over the clean linen without a word.

 

By the time he heard Martin’s keycard in the door, he was curled up in the middle of the bed, stroking at his cock as slowly as he could manage. He’d made the mistake of starting to touch himself just after the first hour of Martin’s absence had elapsed, forgetting that it was like rubbing at an itchy eye – rather than relieving the irritation, it just intensified the need. He moaned with each stroke upwards, and rolled over on to the towel he’d put down as Martin swung open the door.

 

“You’re back,” he groaned, as Martin tumbled into the room. “You – you got it?”

 

Martin’s eyes had flown wide at the sight of Douglas, splayed out and hard and clearly _wanting_ , but he managed to answer, even as he kicked off his shoes and began to strip. “Yes,” he choked. “Pills. Here.” He reached into his trouser pocket and threw the small cardboard box to Douglas, who didn’t bother to even read the instructions before gulping the first pair of tablets dry. He’d taken this brand once before, with his first wife, and the dosage was simple – two tablets as soon as possible, then two more at the beginning of each succeeding day of heat. And then he just had to hope that their 75% rate of efficacy included him.

 

The anxiety vanished as Martin prowled towards the bed. “Do you need food?” the captain asked, clearly because he felt he ought to. “I got some things for us.”

 

Douglas had vaguely registered the other bags Martin had brought with him, but couldn’t care. “Not now,” he said, hoarsely. “I need... I need…” He didn’t have to say. He just reached for Martin, and then Martin was on him, pushing him backwards, nosing and nuzzling at him frantically even while he fumbled with a condom packet and rolled the sheath onto himself.

 

“I thought everyone must know,” Martin gasped. “I was so panicky, and I snapped at the chemist and at the cashier in the supermarket and all I wanted was to be back here – with you – _God_ –“ He spread Douglas’ legs and plunged into him without a second thought, making them both gasp.

 

“Thank you,” Douglas breathed, pulling Martin’s arse tightly into him, bucking his hips up to meet his thrusts. “I’m sorry… about before…”

 

“S’OK,” Martin whimpered. “I – I was irritable – too – God –“ He leant down, took Douglas’ earlobe in his teeth, and snarled gently.

 

“More, harder,” Douglas panted, and Martin groaned, thrusting so deeply that Douglas could do nothing except utter little cries of bliss as Martin penetrated his inner passage repeatedly, rubbing beautifully over the sphincter of his vagina with every drive inwards. He reached for his own cock, and the first jerk tipped him over the edge, making him ripple around Martin.

 

“You feel… incredible,” Martin groaned into his ear, hot breath damp against Douglas’ neck.

 

Douglas whined, his first climax doing nothing to satiate him. But Martin’s knot was swelling again, restricting the captain’s movements; the loss in thrust was made up for by the increase in fullness, and Douglas shouted his pleasure as Martin gasped and came inside him, his cock suddenly full and twitching, Douglas clamping down on the knot as he came too.

 

As he relaxed slightly, Martin suddenly realised the position they were in, and sighed. “This isn’t going to be comfortable, is it?” He nodded at his forearms, trembling already in the half-press-up position he’d knotted in, Douglas pinned beneath him.

 

Douglas saw the comedy in the situation and gave a strained chuckle. “I did warn you last night,” he reminded Martin.

 

“Oh, shut up…” Martin screwed up his face as Douglas’ laugh – and the vibration through his body that it created – were apparently enough to send him into a second orgasm. Martin huffed as his body jerked, ecstasy written across his features. “Feels… so… bloody _perfect_ ,” he sighed, once he was able to speak again.

 

“Resenting missing out on it all these years?” Douglas grinned, but his question was semi-serious; how _had_ Martin managed to resist? He’d never heard of anything like it.

 

His train of thought was diverted, though, as Martin circled his hips, the trick he’d discovered the night before. The shifting motion rubbed Douglas’ cock between their stomachs, slippery with come and sweat, and Douglas climaxed again with a cry. “ _Martin_ ,” he keened, clutching at the captain’s neck, his face – “Martin, _oh –“_

Martin bent his head and kissed him, for the first time since he’d got back, and Douglas suddenly found that he couldn’t stop responding to the feel of the captain's lips moving on his, tongues twining. Martin half-collapsed onto him, his arms giving out, and Douglas wrapped him in a delirious embrace and kissed him until they were both breathless. Martin came again, a roiling, trembling thing that made him sob, and Douglas stroked his back through it and sighed with pleasure at the deeply satisfying sensation of fullness and warmth and – and _safety_ , of all things. He was under Martin, and Martin was inside him, and somehow that was how things were meant to be.

 

His cock had softened at last and he’d drifted towards dreamland without even realising it. He only came to when Martin, slipping out of him to take care of the condom, apologised for the sticky mess left between his thighs as a result of their vigour.

 

“Douglas – you’re red – _oh_ , have I hurt you?”

 

Douglas had flinched, but it was at the resumption of the emptiness, not at any soreness. “Not at all,” he soothed. “Come here, please.” He tugged Martin down next to him, and Martin sank to the bed, dropping the used condom into the bedside bin. The captain seemed concerned about him still; he trailed a hand down Douglas' chest to stroke over his soft cock, then circled a gentle finger over his sensitive entrance.

 

“You’re sure you’re OK?”

 

“Martin, stop worrying.” He bumped his nose against the Alpha’s. “It’s normal, I promise…” He fought the urge to clamp his thighs onto Martin’s probing hand, the touch sending flickers of distant arousal through him. “Please… please… you’re making me…” He reached and caught Martin’s fingers, drawing them to his mouth instead to kiss.

 

“Sorry,” Martin mumbled. “I – I’m worried that I’m not taking care of you properly.”

 

“You’re doing beautifully,” Douglas reassured him. “I keep forgetting that it’s your first time.” He really did; especially in the night, Martin had been as authoritative as any Alpha who’d been experiencing an Omega’s heats for years.

 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Martin pressed a kiss to his cheek and pulled away, standing to rinse his hands in the sink by the bed.

 

“Maybe.” Douglas never felt truly hungry during his heats, but experience had taught him that going three days without food was never a good idea. “What did you get?”

 

“I thought – simple things… biscuits, some cheese – I got apple juice, dried fruit…” Martin looked over nervously. “Does that sound OK?”

 

Douglas sighed with relief. “Perfect,” he said. “Cheese and biscuits would be lovely.”

 

The two of them propped themselves up onto the pillows, munching crackers with the cheddar slices that Martin had found – neither of them felt inclined to leave the bed or dress. A thought suddenly occurred to Douglas, and he turned urgently to Martin. “Carolyn,” he said.

 

Martin frowned. “No, I’m Martin, remember?” He looked momentarily concerned that Douglas had gone mad.

 

Douglas barked a laugh at the captain’s confusion, but carried on. “No, Carolyn – what have you told her? She hasn't come knocking.”

 

“Food poisoning,” Martin replied. “I woke her before I went to the chemist.”

 

“And she believed you?” Worry crept into Douglas’ voice. If Martin wasn’t the worst liar at MJN, it was only because Arthur was on the crew.

 

Martin nodded. “I think so. She told me to go away, for goodness’ sake… so I did.”

 

“OK,” Douglas said. He couldn’t find it within himself to care, just then. With a sigh, he leant his head on Martin’s bare shoulder, then on a whim, kissed his collarbone. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem,” Martin replied, sounding oddly gratified at Douglas’ appreciation. He raised a hand to stroke Douglas’ cheek. “Need anything?”

 

Douglas considered, but shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just… just you. Like this.” He snuggled more closely into Martin’s side, and Martin hummed approval, wrapping his arm around him.

 

“I’m so glad…” Martin began after a few minutes' silence, but cut himself off, flushing.

 

“What?” Douglas looked up curiously.

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Martin said, blushing and not looking at him.

 

“Hey.” Douglas used a finger on Martin’s cheekbone to urge him to meet his gaze. “It’s a mutual feeling.”

 

“Oh. Good.” Martin seemed to relax a little, and bent his head to meet Douglas in a soft kiss, lips brushing together in an action that sent delicious shivers down Douglas’ spine. ' _Hmmm_ ,' he sighed, and cradled Martin’s face in his palm.

 

They kissed for a long time, at first slowly, exploring each other’s mouths, hands stroking smooth skin wherever it could be found – backs, necks, cheeks… But gradually the urgency increased, softness becoming nips, languor transmuting to throbbing need, and Douglas urged Martin onto his back before climbing onto him.

 

“More?” he asked, and Martin didn’t answer in words – just reached for another condom for Douglas to roll over him.

 

Douglas accepted the foil packet, but before opening it he took the opportunity to explore the heft of the frankly stunning cock that he had in his hands – Martin was standing thickly erect, veins prominent and skin flushed darkly red. The eye of the head was beading pre-come already, and Douglas slid a thumb over it, smearing the wetness he found there and making Martin shudder. “ _Oh_ ,” the captain exhaled, and Douglas glanced up before returning to his hungry examination.

 

He ran a light finger round the ridge of the glans, then slipped Martin’s foreskin back and forth, tugging lightly at him, just to make him shiver more. “You’re _gorgeous_ ,” he said, and toyed with the loose skin at the base where Martin’s knot would form. He looked up to meet Martin’s eyes. “How did I never know you were this incredible?” he asked, wonderingly. “I’m… so lucky…” With a shake of his head, he rolled the condom over his Alpha, gripped his shaft firmly, and shifted to sink down onto him, unable to resist any longer.

 

“Fuck me,” he begged; and Martin complied.


	5. Ε

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note slight trigger for mild blood-play for this chapter - biting ahead!
> 
> Gorgeous, gorgeous picture for this chapter now kindly provided by clairedrawsairdraws. If you're not familiar with her Cabin Pressure art, I beseech you to go and find her on Tumblr at clairedrawsairdraws.tumblr.com. You're in for a treat.

"When did you first realise?" Martin asked, stroking a finger over Douglas' cheekbone.

   

It was the middle of the night again (at least Douglas thought it was; he couldn't be too sure, everything was a bit of a haze). "Realise what?" he asked, slipping a hand to grip Martin's hip. They were lying on their sides, facing each other after their last round - Douglas had lost track of how many times they'd had each other now, and the day had disappeared in sleeping and fucking and grabbing small morsels of food from time to time. 

 

Martin gestured with a finger. "When you realised what you were. That you were... an Omega," he said, blushing a little.

 

Douglas frowned, and pondered. It wasn't a question anyone had ever asked him; so few people knew he had a mutated gene at all, and all his previous Alphas had been keener to find out details like the frequency of his heats, the duration of them, whether he had ever been bonded... 

 

"I think... I was fifteen when it became... obvious."

 

Martin raised a curious eyebrow. "You went into heat?"

 

Douglas nodded. "On a school exchange trip to France." He exhaled raggedly, the horrible memories springing to mind. "Luckily there were no Alphas among the other pupils, or I shudder to think..." He gazed into Martin's eyes, so close to him that he could count the green flecks in his blue irises. "My most hated teacher - she had to look after me, stop me from hurting myself with desperation. The irony was that my favourite teacher was on the trip too, and - cheeky beggar that I was - I demanded that he take care of me instead. But..." His breath hitched. "He couldn't. That's what they said." He looked away. "It was only afterwards that I realised why not."

 

Martin guessed. "Alpha?"

 

"Alpha," Douglas confirmed. "It really hit home, then... How dangerous I could be, just because of what I was. That my brilliant, kind and spotless-of-character teacher couldn't even trust himself to be in the same room as me, just because...." He stopped, the memory as raw as Arctic sea ice against his skin. 

 

Martin murmured a small, distressed noise. "I'm sorry."

 

"It's fine." Douglas tried to sound airy, and failed. "But heat suppressants... They weren't commonly available then." Abruptly, he clenched his fists. "It was so  _humiliating._ And the whole school knew, because of course gossip like that spreads like wildfire - guess what, tall, broad Douglas Richardson from the rugby team is an  _Omega_." He glared into space, furiously. "Suddenly I was just a prize to be won. There were only about six of us in the whole school, and..." he sighed. "It was a long time ago. It was hardly surprising I ended up pregnant so young - most of us did, then. No suppressants, no desire to keep opportunistic Alphas at bay, not when your whole body's screaming at you to let them mate you, bond with you, breed you." He reached to gently push an errant curl out of Martin's eye, and was struck afresh at his unlined face, his guileless expression. "You're too young to understand."

 

Martin blinked crossly. "I'm not!" He bit his lip, seeming to realise where they were, and tugged Douglas close to him so their hips met. "We learnt all about it in sex ed, what things were like until the Pill," he said. "I know that's not the same as firsthand experience, but... Don't think I grew up in some unprejudiced utopia, because I bloody didn't," he said, indignation still thrumming quietly in the timbre of his voice. "You said you were the broad and strong Omega - well,  _poor you_. Try being the scrawny, runty Alpha. PE was a nightmare - half the Beta boys were bigger than me, and I managed to hide it for a few years, but really... Once just  _one_ of them noticed my cock in the showers, then they'd never leave me alone again." He screwed his eyes shut. "My mum said they were just jealous, and that they'd get bored of teasing me, but they never,  _ever_  did. And then one night - when I'd come home with a black eye, which wasn't an unusual occurrence, let me tell you - I heard my mother, crying in the kitchen to my dad, saying that it must be because she'd had me prematurely and it was all her fault, and what were they going to do about me?  _About_  me?" he spat. 

 

There was a long pause before Martin went on. "I never let them see that being an Alpha bothered me, after that." He paused for a second. "And about two months later, I got my first whiff of heat. This poor girl at the seaside, in the B&B we were staying in - she was locked out, couldn't find her parents, and it would have been so easy -  _so_  easy - to give in. She was begging me, you know." Douglas instantly forgave Martin - undesired, bullied Martin - for the tiny note of pride that crept into his voice with that last sentence. "I almost did. Almost took her, because that was what our bodies demanded and it was... nigh-on irresistible." He sighed. "But I stopped. I knew I wasn't what she wanted, not  _really_ , because... who'd want me?" He gestured awkwardly down his torso, Douglas' eyes following the sweep of his hand involuntarily. "And then... I wanted to be a pilot... And I knew I could resist, because I already had."

 

Douglas was still stuck on Martin's admission of self-disgust. " _I_  want you," he said, insistently.

 

Martin laughed. "You're in heat, Douglas. Of course you want me." His eyes softened, and he cupped Douglas' cheek. "I don't mind," he said. "I'll help you now, and then we can go back to normal. You can go back to normal." His voice was steady, but Douglas could hear again the wistfulness beneath.

 

Something surged inside the first officer. "I don't want  _normal_ ," he whispered, tones harsh. "I want  _you_."

 

Martin's gaze was sad, disbelieving. "I know you think you feel that way," he whispered back, "but it's not  _you_ , Douglas. Don't make promises you know you can't keep." He breathed out, heavily, minty breath filling Douglas' jumbled senses with a sudden awareness that they were sharing each other's air. 

 

Douglas clutched him more tightly, pulled him closer. "You said you wanted me before this," he reminded, and felt Martin squirm in his arms.

 

"I did. I... do." Martin hid his face in Douglas' shoulder. "But it's not mutual, not when you're in a sane frame of mind."

 

"How do you know?" Douglas was fierce now. "Heat changes things." He hugged Martin. "What if I said I was seeing you in a new light?" He kissed Martin's forehead, something sickeningly nervous and fearful tangling in his guts.

 

Martin sighed. "If you said that now... I'd still say 'hormones'." He peeked out of Douglas' sturdy chest. "Talk to me in two days, you brilliant, addled thing." He smiled wryly. "I'd put money on you changing your mind."

 

"Aha," Douglas mused, "good."

 

"Good?" Martin sounded startled - and the slightest bit hurt. 

 

"Yes." Douglas grinned down at him. "Because out of all the bets we've ever made, I don't think you've won a single one." He poked Martin's nose.

 

"Huh," Martin said, and chuckled in spite of himself. "Three months' salary?" he reminded the FO, and they both smiled at the memory.

 

"Fine, you've won once.  _Once_."

 

Douglas held Martin in his arms until he was sure the captain was in dreamland, then kissed his curly hair meditatively. "I really don't think this is the second time that you'll win," he whispered, then sighed. "Old fool," he cursed himself.

 

He tried to get some sleep.

 

* * *

 

Douglas woke Martin at dawn the next morning - though not with a desperate desire to mate again, as he'd hoped. Instead it was by throwing up, loudly and spectacularly, into the toilet.

 

Martin was at his side before he could even finish vomiting, rubbing his back as he hurled. "What is it?" he asked, sounding very small and scared. "What's the matter?"

 

Douglas sat back onto his haunches, wiped his chin, groaned. "The tablets," he explained, succinctly, then heaved once more.

 

Martin fell to his knees beside him, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders. Once Douglas could breathe again, he kissed his ear. "Do I need to get someone? What... what should I do?"

 

"Glass of water?" Douglas requested, weakly, and Martin sprang to his task. While the tap ran, Douglas carried on. "Don't worry. Side-effect... The chemist didn't tell you?"

 

Martin shook his head no, handing over the tumbler. Douglas sipped gratefully at it. "I'll be fine," he said reaching a hand to stroke Martin's calf. "The pills - they're a concentrated dose of hormones, they'll be sending my body haywire." He grimaced. "I'm so sorry. This is not going to be the easiest heat I've ever had."

 

"Oh,  _Douglas_." Martin sounded heartbroken. "If only I'd realised -"

 

Douglas waved his regret away. "S'fine." The nausea was passing, and he stood up, gingerly. "I'm afraid it might not be a picnic for you, either."

 

Martin had already got his toothbrush ready, and Douglas gratefully accepted it. "Not a picnic for me?" Martin asked. "What do you mean?"

 

Douglas grimaced. "Your body... It's responding to my hormones, my pheromones. And... well, the tablets are designed to swamp me with Alpha hormones, temporarily, so an embryo can't implant in me and grow. Understand me?" At Martin's nod, he continued. "But the Alpha hormones aren't yours. Your body might think you've got competition, might spur you on to be... different than you'd ordinarily be during a heat."

 

"I don't  _know_  how I'd... ordinarily be during a heat," Martin said, very quietly.

 

Douglas shrugged, and moved to cuddle him. "Try not to think about it, darling." He was detachedly surprised at the ease with which the endearment tumbled from his lips. "It might not happen. But if you don't feel good... That's probably why." He released Martin, and set to brushing his teeth. In the mirror, he could see Martin leaning on the vanity, looking very thoughtful. 

 

He spat into the sink, glad to get the taste of bile from his gums. "Penny for them," he said, trying to sound casual.

 

Martin looked up. "Just taking it in." He passed Douglas a hand towel. "I know that how I'm feeling... Well, it's unusual for me. But I'd expect it to be." Worry creased his brow. "The other Alpha hormones... would they make me... hurt you in any way? Would I get that jealous?" He suddenly looked very, very afraid. "Should I be alone with you?" 

 

Douglas grabbed his wrist, urgently, feeling a fresh pulse of lubrication leak from his rear. "Don't you  _dare_ leave." He kissed Martin's cheek, his mouth - tried to get him to kiss back. "You won't hurt me. I trust you."

 

Martin still looked unsure. "Positive?"

 

"The change in pheromones might make you more... possessive than you'd otherwise be, I suppose," Douglas conceded. "But they mightn't affect you at all..." He wriggled. Being this close to Martin was having a decided effect on his anatomy. 

 

Martin noticed immediately. "You're getting uncomfortable, aren't you?"

 

Douglas murmured, softly. "Yes." He kissed Martin's neck, scented his jawline. "Oh..." His thighs were wet again, he realised, and he squirmed as need washed over him. 

 

"I'm sorry. I should have noticed." Martin took his hand, was leading him towards the bed again. "Kneel up, sweetheart."

 

Befuddled with desire, Douglas instead melded his body to Martin's, trying to be as close to him as he could. Martin had to gently urge his limbs into motion one by one, until he was knelt clumsily on all fours in front of his Alpha. "There you are," Martin soothed, running a finger down his slippery cleft, testing his readiness. "Oh, you're so wet for me, Douglas, that's stunning..." 

 

Martin dipped the tip of his finger inside Douglas and his Omega instantly wriggled, trying to push back on it. "Shh, shh," Martin hushed him, and Douglas realised he was whimpering. "I'm going to fuck you. Going to fill you. Let me just get..." Douglas heard the crinkle of the condom packet. 

 

"Yes," he pleaded. "Now, please, want you..."

 

"I know," Martin breathed, and pushed forwards, filling him to the hilt. "Are you alright?" he asked, not moving.

 

"What? Of course I am!" Douglas tried to shift, but Martin was gripping his hips too firmly.

 

"You  _were_  just being sick," Martin reminded him, cautiously. Douglas could feel the strain of attempted restraint trembling in Martin's grip.

 

"I don't care. Please..." Douglas' voice broke on a sob.

 

"OK. OK." Martin gently moved, shifting back, pushing forwards, and Douglas moaned with relief. "Oh... I can't believe... You're still so tight around me..."

 

Douglas whined, trying to urge Martin into faster motion, but Martin resisted. "No." The captain stroked both hands up his back, lovingly caressing the planes of his shoulders. "Slowly, Douglas. Gently." He leant forwards, so his chest lay along Douglas' spine. "I'm in charge. Let me take care of you..."

 

As Martin's hands slid down his forearms to grip his wrists, something in Douglas gave way utterly. He felt as if he'd been turned to liquid, and Martin was the glass holding him; that without being encompassed by his Alpha he'd be in a puddle on the floor. Under Martin's slight weight, he sank down until he was flat on his stomach on the bed, Martin's cock still sheathed inside his passage, blissful fullness filling him.

 

"That's it," Martin crooned, dominance giving his voice a compelling edge of which Douglas would never have imagined him capable. "Trust me."

 

"I do," Douglas said, and knew it was true. He rocked his pelvis up, trying to urge Martin into moment, and Martin shifted with him, beginning a series of deep, slow thrusts that had Douglas writhing in pleasure. "It's... never been... like this," he whispered. 

 

It hadn't. Other Alphas had asserted their dominance by repeatedly pounding him into the bed. Either Martin didn't know that rough fucking was the Alpha stereotype, or he didn't care. Whichever it was, Douglas was gradually being sent out of his mind by the soft sensuality of this, by Martin's breath in his hair and the glide of his cock, the grip of the strong, steady fingers round his wrists.

 

"You're mine, Douglas, mine -" Martin choked, and his hips stuttered as he realised what he'd said; Douglas guessed he was wondering if it was the pills taking their effect on him.

 

"No, say it..." he moaned - the words had felt right.

 

Martin resumed both movement and speech. " _Mine_. My Douglas, my gorgeous Omega." He breached Douglas' vagina, and they both tensed at the feeling of it. "Mine, going to knot you -  _yes_ -" Martin broke off as Douglas came with a gasp, jerking under him. "Good boy.... Give me another, I know you can - untouched, come on -" 

 

Douglas screwed his eyes up, trying to swim in Martin's words, his voice, his touch. He found it was astonishingly easy, and wondered at it; even in heat, he'd never been able to let that last bit of self-control slip away before, intent on retaining mastery somehow. But with Martin nuzzling his neck and pressing so deep inside him and murmuring sweet commands in his ear... Douglas surrendered, and felt as if he was flying. "Yours," he said aloud, and - in spite of everything - his voice was steady and true. "Yours. Oh, Martin,  _oh_  -" He tensed again as Martin picked up the pace a little, still holding him with the same loving firmness. "Ah, Martin, augh, you're going to make me come. I can feel it -"

 

"Let me have it," Martin growled, his voice dark as black treacle. "That's mine too. Come on..."

 

"Nearly, nearly - oh, Martin, a little deeper, please - oh,  _Christ_!" Douglas thrashed as he fell off the edge of the precipice again, spurting into the bedsheets beneath him, already damp from his first climax. 

 

"God." Martin's soft thrusts were fast, now, but still smooth and somehow gentle. The kick of his hips was sinuous and rippling, washing sensation up and down Douglas' spine like waves lapping a beach. Douglas had never been this hard, surely, had never  _wanted_  so much. "Give me one more," Martin commanded, dominance smooth and effortless. "One more, and then I'll knot you."

 

"Yes," Douglas hissed, and strained upwards again. "Bite me," he begged, and he felt Martin go tense above him.

 

"You don't want to bond, you said..."

 

"Not my neck." Douglas tried to recover himself, to pretend he hadn't meant a bonding bite for a moment. "My shoulder. Make me bleed, make me feel you..."

 

"You want...?" Douglas could hear the desperate temptation in Martin's question, could feel it in the way his Alpha clutched his wrists, desperation fuelling their passion. 

 

" _Please."_ He was so close, nearly there again, orgasm barrelling down on him like a freight train.

 

Martin thrust into him as deeply as he could, nosed Douglas' neck, inhaling, and then -

 

"Fuck!" Douglas jerked violently as Martin's teeth clamped down  _hard_  into the meat of his shoulder. The ecstatic pleasure-pain of it ripped through him, and he climaxed a third time, his whole body responding with spasming muscles and beautiful sensation as his cock twitched beneath them.

 

 

The act of biting had obviously triggered something in Martin, too - or perhaps it was the feel of Douglas' orgasm. Either way, the captain howled mutedly into Douglas' scapula as his knot sprang out from him, pumping forth ejaculate and sending pleasure ripping through his groin. He finally let Douglas go with his teeth as he came down, and the FO felt the warm trickle of blood down towards his rib cage and the satisfying sting as air got to the wound.

 

"You're bleeding...." Martin sounded drugged. "Douglas..." Concern was evidently awakening, but Douglas was too high to care.

 

"It's fine," he murmured. "Small wound. It's fine."

 

Martin licked at his shudder, some instinct urging him to clean the mess. The taste of his Omega's blood seemed to do an indescribable thing for him, and he tensed again and groaned another orgasm into Douglas' cervical spine. "Oh Douglas, my Douglas...."

 

"You're OK," Douglas soothed, soul soaring. "I'm close again, too..." He whimpered, rocking his hips to feel the knot tug against them both. "Oh,  _oh_..."

 

"That's it, let me have it, now, Douglas, come  _now_."

 

Douglas couldn't disobey. He clenched down on Martin inside him, wringing another ejaculation from his Alpha; the two of them panted, the air swirling with the intermingled scents of sweat and blood and hormones, Omega-Alpha notes coupled in the room just as inextricably as the two of them sprawled on the bed.

 

Martin sighed deeply, ruffling the baby hair at the nape of Douglas' neck. Douglas felt the captain's grip on his wrists loosening; he twisted his palms upwards and laced their fingers together. "OK?" he asked, trying to look behind him, not really succeeding due to the position they were knotted in. 

 

"More than," Martin said, quiet passion throbbing through the two syllables. He stretched up to try to kiss Douglas' jaw, the move causing them both to groan as Martin's cock probed Douglas' vagina more deeply. 

 

"You're... amazing," Douglas said softly, and meant it.

 

"I'm not." Martin's knot was beginning to soften.

 

Douglas tightened his Kegels, squeezing at Martin to make him grunt with ebbing pleasure. "You are, my darling." Martin slipped free of him, and they both shivered as one. The Alpha made as if to get up, but Douglas managed to flip over beneath him so they were face to face and clutch at his waist to stop him from leaving. "Thank you," he said, and drew Martin into a slow, achingly tender kiss.

 

 

"What for?" Martin asked, when they separated slightly. He was smiling, but his eyes were surprised. 

 

"No one's ever... made love to me during a heat."

 

Martin snorted. "Of course they have; what else do you do, after all?"

 

Douglas reached up, caressed his his cheek. "That's just fucking. This... What you just did..." He shivered again at the bone-deep bliss of it. " _That_  was making love." Martin flushed, and Douglas kissed his nose. "It was beautiful. Thank you."

 

Martin quivered for a moment, clearly trying to decide what to say, but Douglas wrapped him in his arms and just held him tight, heedless of the fact that they were both sweaty, sticky, rumpled. "Anytime," Martin whispered. "My Douglas."

 

Douglas felt the answering swell of  _belonging_  in the face of Martin's possessiveness. "Yours," he agreed.

 

"It's me saying it," Martin insisted, evidently needing to make it clear. "Not... Not those bloody pills making me. I just... I want you." He sighed, relaxation loosening his tongue, his limbs. "You're mine."

 

Douglas hesitated, but found he agreed, drugs and heat hormones and his mental haze be damned. "I know, love," he whispered. "I know."


	6. Ζ

Gradually, the day blurred into night, and night smudged into the dawn without Douglas remarking on the transition or the passage of time. He was consumed by need, his body taking over his brain; everything that wasn’t sleep or sex taking a back seat to his driving desire for nigh-impossible satiation. He tried to suppress his urge to be near his Alpha, even gripping the bed sheets in his fists and digging his fingernails into his palms to attempt to distract himself, but Martin noticed and chastised him.

 

“None of that, Douglas, you hear me?” Martin had gripped the nape of his neck fiercely. “You stubborn thing.” He’d dipped his head for a kiss that left Douglas gasping. “I’m here to help you... I want you...”

 

Douglas had stopped trying to repress himself after that, gave himself over entirely to what his entire being was telling him to do – to have Martin over and over until sleep finally claimed both of them in the dim early hours of the morning.

 

A harsh rap on the bedroom door woke both of them, and Douglas was still blinking at the light streaming through the gap in the curtains as Martin leapt out of bed with far more alacrity than he’d ever displayed when they’d shared a room previously. “Who is it?” the captain called, and his voice was sharp and aggressive.

 

“Arthur!” came the steward’s chirpy reply from behind the door. Douglas was passing a floppy hand over his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them, but he froze as Martin let out a snarling noise that Douglas would never have imagined he could make.

 

“Go away!” Martin bit out the words, and Douglas prodded his doze-drunken limbs into action, stumbling out of bed towards his Alpha.

 

Martin whirled round to face him as Arthur spoke again, sounding a little uncertain now. “Err, I will, it’s just… Mum said you both had food poisoning and I wanted to see if you’d like anything bringing…”

 

Martin hissed, reaching out to grip Douglas’ arm as he approached. “ _Stay there_ ,” he growled, and the Omega in Douglas was helpless to resist the command, picking up on Martin’s distress and aggression. Adrenaline shot through him, responding to the perceived exterior threat, and his hair prickled, everything in his body trying to ready him to fight or flee.

 

He fought the sensation as best he could, but it felt utterly _wrong_ to go against his instincts… “Martin… it’s just Arthur…” he managed, but Martin was stalking towards the door, shrugging on the hotel’s free bathrobe. Douglas grabbed at the duvet to cover himself just in time as the captain yanked open the door.

 

“Go _away_!” Martin didn’t yell, but his voice was raised, the tendons on his neck as prominent as steel ropes standing out, flushed red.

 

Arthur quailed backwards in surprise. “S-sorry…” he stuttered, and Douglas lurched towards Martin, panic vivid inside him.

 

“Martin – close the door – sorry, Arthur, we don’t feel well –“

 

“I thought you might like –“

 

Arthur’s voice was miserable, but Douglas cut him off mid-sentence with a frantic shake of his head; he was now physically holding Martin back – not the easiest task, since Martin seemed set on crowding in front of him, blocking him from the Beta’s view.

 

“Thank you, very kind, but no we’re fine, we’ll call your Mum tomorrow –“ Douglas babbled, tugging Martin back and kicking the door shut as he did so. The movement unbalanced him and he stumbled, half-falling onto the floor.

 

Martin felt him trip and tried to catch him, but his focus on the door and Arthur made him miss; he only succeeded in pushing Douglas further downwards. Douglas panted, the adrenaline spike making him shake, and he met Martin’s eyes for the first time since they’d awoken. The Alpha’s stare was predatory and possessive – it made Douglas shiver and involuntarily arch his neck as he sprawled awkwardly on the carpet, everything in him telling him to submit. The fact that Martin was smaller than him had never mattered less; Martin was all wiry muscle and Alpha fury, and a gush of fresh wetness slid down Douglas’ thighs, scent misting around them both.

 

Martin towered over him, leant down deliberately and grabbed his chin, rubbing a jealous thumb over his jaw. “I told you to stay,” he snapped, his other hand fisting in Douglas’ hair. He dropped to his knees beside his Omega, but this was no act of submission. He pressed Douglas backwards until he was lying prone on the floor, crawling to pin him down and then leaning to scent his neck hungrily. “You – you’re my Omega. _Mine_. He can’t have you – can’t –“

 

Douglas whined in placation, but suddenly Martin jerked backwards, an awareness coming into his eyes that had been utterly absent before. “Oh my God,” Martin groaned, rocking back onto his heels. He buried his head in his hands. “What am I – what am I doing?”

 

Douglas was left bereft, untouched on the scratchy floor, and he whimpered without realising it. Martin instantly responded, almost flinging himself down beside his partner, hugging tightly into his side. “I’m sorry,” Martin whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Douglas swallowed hard, the slow dissipation of adrenaline leaving him weak and shaking. “It’s OK – it’s not you – shh, shh…” Martin’s shoulders were heaving, and Douglas was suddenly terrified that he was crying. He wriggled both arms awkwardly round the captain’s slender form, trying to calm him with his nearness and acceptance. “It’s not your fault.” Need was stirring strongly in him again, and he flexed uncomfortably as his body screamed its desire at him.

 

“Sorry,” Martin said once more, and shuddered. Douglas could feel his Alpha’s cock even under the bathrobe, thickening and firming in response to their proximity.

 

“Don’t worry,” Douglas reassured him, kissing his hair, his cheek, unable to resist sliding his hands under the collar of the towelling material to stroke down Martin’s back. “It’s fine – oh –“

 

Martin had entwined their legs together, urgency clearly rocketing through both of them now. He kissed hungrily at Douglas’ neck, bit hard at his cheek, the pain flaring pleasantly through his Omega’s addled senses. “I have to – need to – fuck you –“

 

“Yes – please –“ Douglas squirmed desperately free of Martin’s clutch, which elicited a stream of snarling growls from deep within the captain’s chest. “Too old for carpet burns – bed –“ he explained, but he doubted whether Martin had absorbed any of it beyond the word ‘bed’, given the way Martin sprang to his feet and herded him onto the mattress again, shedding the robe as he did so.

 

Martin gripped his shoulders, parted his legs and made as if to push inwards, his cock bobbing hard and pillarbox-red between them, but Douglas held him back. “Condom. Tablets,” he harshed out, and Martin reached for both packets with a groan. Douglas swallowed the pills while Martin rolled the prophylactic onto himself, then reached desperately for his Alpha’s neck. “ _Now_ ,” he begged. Martin sank into him with a yarring murmur of sated longing, tipping Douglas into an immediate and perfunctory climax that simply served to spur them on.

 

They fucked hard and desperately, Martin constantly twitching to look over his shoulder at the door. At one point he pulled free – despite Douglas’ pleas – to stumble over to lock it, even applying the safety chain, before leaping back to the bed in two strides to turn Douglas over and rive him again, plunging deep, his knot already swelling. The push of it hurt, and Douglas cried out.

 

Something was still sane in Martin, and he stilled – evidently concerned – but Douglas shoved back against him, wordlessly begging him to move, and Martin obliged. It took barely another minute before his Alpha moaned as his expanding knot heralded a violent orgasm and blocked their movement.

 

Martin nosed at the back of Douglas’ neck, nipped at the skin, and Douglas groaned. “Don’t bite,” he muttered brokenly, all the reasons against it fleeing his mind and leaving him only with a baseless command for which he could find no logic.

 

The captain shook his head, worrying at Douglas’ nape. “I won’t,” he promised, hoarsely and through his teeth. Another climax grabbed his focus, and he jerked against Douglas’ back. “I’m _coming_ – oh God –“ He fumbled a hand beneath them, finding Douglas still hard against the sheets.

 

At Martin’s touch, Douglas bucked, tugging on the knot, shooting pleasure through both of them. “More,” he begged, and Martin tugged dryly at his shaft, tipping him off the precipice with a strangled shout. “ _Fuck_ ,” he swore as his meagre ejaculate jetted forth, Martin humming satisfaction into his shoulder blades.

 

The knotting seemed to last an inordinate length of time, and Douglas was nearly asleep again before Martin was soft enough to pull free. It took him a moment before he became aware that Martin was no longer in the bed and the sudden shock of fear at the realisation made him jump and flip over, sore muscles protesting the abrupt movement. “Martin?”

 

The captain was leaning on the windowsill, peering through the gap in the blinds, his back hunched. He didn’t respond to Douglas’ calling of his name, or to a hand on his arm when the first officer joined him at the window. “Martin?”

 

Martin looked round at him only when Douglas wrapped his arms tightly to encircle his chest. His eyes were miserable. “Sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Nausea from the second dose of the pill was coiling slimily in Douglas’ guts again.

 

“You warned me.” Martin cast his eyes down. “I was so vigilant… yesterday… I tried so hard, after what you warned me about that contraceptive.” There was agony in his expression. “And I went and cocked it all up this morning, didn’t I?”

 

Douglas gaped, but then mastered himself to stroke soothingly at Martin’s side. “You’re not to blame,” he murmured. “Arthur will forgive you.”

 

“You think?” Martin turned into Douglas’ embrace, his eyes mournful.

 

“Of course he will.” Douglas kissed Martin’s hair. “It’s _Arthur,_ for goodness’ sake.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

 

“No!” Martin grabbed at his arms, urgently. “I – I’m glad – I –“ he stumbled to a stop, seeming unable to finish the sentence. In lieu of words, he sought out Douglas’ mouth, kissing him deeply, tongues twining as they clung to each other for comfort.

 

They broke apart slightly, resting their foreheads together and just breathing. “I’m sorry,” they said in unison, and after a pause, both chuckled weakly.  “It is… what it is…” Douglas whispered, and sighed resignation. “Thank you.”

 

“Why?” Martin sounded surprised.

 

“Because you wanted to defend me, even if there wasn’t really a threat. Because you’re helping me. Because – because you’re still here.”

 

There was a surprised pause, but then Martin relaxed into him. “Of course I am,” he said, and he met Douglas in another passionate kiss.


	7. Η

The third day after their arrival in Inverness, Douglas awoke early to find Martin curled around him. He desperately wanted coffee, and if possible a biscuit, but first it seemed he would have to extract himself from his Alpha’s possessive grasp limb by limb if he wanted to avoid waking him.

 

He carefully assessed which appendage would be the trickiest to uncoil and came to the conclusion that it would be his right leg; Martin’s thigh was thrown over his, while the captain’s calf and foot were hooked under his own. He decided to leave the leg till last, and successfully (if a little reluctantly) unlaced their fingers and slid his back away from Martin’s bare chest.

 

He should have known, though; before he even got to attempt to remove his leg from the bed, Martin made a dopey growling noise, and awoke. “Goin' somewhere?” he slurred.

 

“Shh.” Douglas rolled round in the bed to face him. “Coffee. Want some?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Douglas could feel Martin’s eyes tracking him as he crossed the room, muscles still sore from their unaccustomed activity over the past days. He felt uncharacteristically shy, but knee-jerk defiance refused to allow him to hide himself; instead he merely made them drinks as quickly as he could, before heading back under the covers. Passing Martin a steaming mug, he wordlessly contemplated as he nursed his own. Something was different, today… calmer…

 

The coffee had begun to cool before Douglas realised. _It’s ending_. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, he supposed. His heats had never been a predictable length, and he’d taken the contraceptive hormones into the bargain; they were bound to alter things. He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, but was diverted as he felt Martin lie his head on his shoulder, the curls tickling his chest. Instead, he set the mug aside and turned to stroke the captain. “Are you OK?”

 

Martin hummed, a trace of uncertainty evident. “It’s finishing, isn’t it?”

 

Douglas was taken aback. “How did _you_ know?” He hadn’t meant to sound insulting, but Martin was completely inexperienced, after all.

 

“I – well, I can smell it…” Martin shifted, pressing his nose into Douglas’ neck, and Douglas pressed back without meaning to – amazed at the sudden wash of security and affection that Martin’s gesture inspired. The sense of safety was nearly overturned by a contradictory burst of fear. _Don’t trust him, don’t rely on him_ , his mind nagged, and a flash of Mel’s triumphant text replayed in his brain again. Douglas pulled away on instinct at the thought and felt Martin flinch. Before he could apologise, Martin was recoiling, getting out of bed.

 

“I’ll ring Carolyn. Tell her we’ll be OK to fly home this afternoon, then, shall I?” Martin didn’t seem to want to look at him.

 

Douglas drew the covers more tightly around himself. “Yes.” He watched as Martin disappeared into the bathroom, and tried angrily to dash away the brief sense of desolation he felt. “We can go sooner, if you like,” he called, grumpily, then felt horribly guilty. It wasn’t Martin’s fault that they’d ended up in this situation, after all. It was his. All his.

 

* * *

 

They both washed and dressed hurriedly, skirting each other without touching, until at last, Douglas sighed. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, and caught Martin round the waist from behind, tugging him into a hug – ready to let go if Martin winced. He felt Martin tense in surprise, but then relax back into him. “Thank you,” Douglas said, softly, yet again.

 

“What for?” Martin twisted to face him.

 

“Helping me,” Douglas replied, rolling his eyes. He didn't understand Martin's continuing confusion in the face of his gratitude.

 

“It was nothing.”

 

Douglas regarded him for a moment, unsure how to read Martin’s expression. It was odd and closed off, and Douglas couldn’t comprehend it. “OK…” he said, doubtfully, but bent to kiss Martin’s cheek, the now-familiar scent of the Alpha making his heart stutter.

 

For a second, Martin’s hand closed round Douglas' wrist where he gripped the Alpha's waist. Douglas drew back in shock at the almost desperate tightness he felt in the clutch, but when he saw Martin’s face, the moment had gone, vanished as lightning-fast as it had arisen. “Back to normal, then,” Martin said, voice flat, before Douglas could speak.

 

“Back to normal,” Douglas agreed. “Let’s go.” He tried to squash the pang in his chest at the haste with which his captain nodded.  _Of course. Planes will always come first_.

 

Martin turned and left the room without looking back, straightening his hat as he did so, and it took Douglas a moment to remember that he was supposed to follow, trying to square the tangle of complicated emotion circling in his chest with the relationship he and Martin had had until three days ago. With a sigh, he went after his captain, trying not to lose sight of him around the hotel’s twisty corridors – even if Martin was no longer his Alpha, he was still his colleague. _Mustn’t lose him. Not now._

* * *

 

When they met Arthur and Carolyn in the foyer, Douglas felt a bit more normal. Carolyn was as grumpy as ever and Arthur as excitable – Martin’s ire with the steward of two days before obviously forgiven and forgotten. Douglas was quiet, but when Arthur remarked on the fact he felt as if he were perfectly justified in blaming it on the food poisoning that he and Martin had supposedly been suffering. He felt both Martin’s and Carolyn’s eyes on him, but stared determinedly out of the taxi window all the way to the airport, not meeting their gazes as Arthur's easy chatter about the Loch Ness monster filled the cab.

 

Things were better once they were back on GERTI; he and Martin had a routine here, and their normal roles resumed on the flight deck, a wordless agreement not to discuss any of what had transpired seeming to be upheld by both of them. Douglas operated homewards and they continued a game they’d been playing a few trips before. It was only when they began their descent and Carolyn poked her nose into the flight deck that awkwardness again reared its head.

 

“I want to see you both in my office when we land,” she barked, withdrawing with no further explanation given.

 

Douglas met Martin’s eyes quickly, and saw panic there. “What – what can she want?” Martin asked, quickly, desperately.

 

Douglas tried to shrug. “Probably to shout at us about eating dodgy food,” he said, but felt his stomach churning.

 

“Probably,” Martin agreed, but a new nervousness thrummed in the captain that stopped Douglas from relaxing throughout their landing. Once they were on stand, he reached to squeeze Martin’s elbow.

 

“Hey,” he said, quietly. “It’ll be OK.”

 

“What? Of course it will. Course.” Martin babbled, and Douglas let go, unease squirming at how wrong and simultaneously _right_ it now felt to touch Martin, alarmed at the urgent desire to hold more than just his elbow.

 

“Come on then,” Douglas said, brusquely, trying to hide his turbulent emotions, and didn’t notice Martin recoiling at his unfriendly tone as they left the cockpit behind. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

"Come in." Carolyn motioned curtly to them both with a jerk of her head as they reached the portacabin and the door of her office. Douglas' heart quickened, but he kept his gait casual, half-stepping on Martin's toe to urge him to stand further away as they halted in front of her desk. Martin's indrawn breath of indignation was fortunately concealed by Carolyn's having turned back to Arthur, who was loitering just outside the doorway, his eyes bewildered.

 

"Go home, Arthur." She threw her car keys to him. "The pilots can give me a lift after we've had a chat."

 

Arthur hesitated, glancing at Martin and Douglas, but then she shut the door in his face and strode behind her desk. "Sit," she ordered, curtly.

 

Martin flopped down as though his strings had been cut, but Douglas remained standing for a moment, eyes narrowed, arms folded. It had taken him most of his twenties to learn to resist a command _that_ firmly given, even from a Beta, and whilst he'd never been able to gloat openly to anyone about the strength of mind it took for him to flaunt an edict like that, nor was he about to relinquish his hard-won skill. Even - perhaps especially - after a heat like the one he'd just experienced. "What is it?" he asked, succeeding in keeping his voice airy. "I'm keen to head off."

 

Carolyn arched a brow at him. "I'll make this quick, then." 

 

He shrugged, and sat down next to Martin, the sofa cramped enough that he could feel Martin's thigh quivering next to his. "Well?" he asked, pressing his leg warningly into Martin's, feeling him go still in response.

 

Carolyn regarded them for a few moments from her seat, her mouth as puckered as it had been on the occasion when she'd inadvertently sipped at one of Arthur's Sour Skittles cocktails. "Food poisoning." Her voice was flat, no hint of a question in it.

 

Douglas stared impassively back at her, but groaned inwardly as his co-conspirator's poker face failed to materialise in kind and Martin began to babble. "Th-that's right, three days of it, throwing up, miracle we got home today, very tired, still don't feel right, neither of us, must go, _really_ , want my bed -" 

 

For a second Douglas considered experimenting to see just how long Martin's breath would hold out, but considering the seriousness of the secret they were both attempting to protect, he intervened and pinched Martin behind the cover of his elbow. Martin squeaked, but subsided. Douglas didn't dare look to see if Martin's eyes had shot sideways at him.

 

"Think I was born yesterday?" Carolyn's voice was quiet still, but there was something dangerous in it, now.

 

Douglas replied before Martin could get them into any further hot water. "Can't imagine what you mean," he shot back. _Divert her_ , his mind prompted. "If you're implying I was delaying us for business reasons of my own, noble leader, you're barking up completely the wrong tree. Neither Martin nor I left that room for the entire ghastly time we were in Scotland, and no one but Arthur so much as put a toe over the threshold." He kept his voice even, not insisting too much, hiding his stress with practiced adeptness. "Unless you're implying that the maid was delivering me smuggled goods in the laundry cart?" _That's it, just the right note of derision in the question..._

Carolyn inhaled, a deep, apparently steadying breath, though it didn't seem to do her mood any good. "I'm not implying that."

 

"Good." Douglas subtly stood on Martin's toe, trying to prevent him from speaking. _When in doubt, force your antagonist to move against you.._.

 

"Don't make me say it."

 

"Say what?" Martin's voice was garbled in speaking even just the two syllables, and Douglas leant harder on his toes.

 

"Do you know the penalty?" Carolyn's voice was shaking, too, now. Douglas felt his stomach contract. "For my plane being operated by one of you?" She stood as if she hadn't intended to, her knuckles white as she clutched the desk. "Let _alone_  two?" An angry motion, as if she meant to march towards them, but she remained where she was.

 

Martin squeaked. In such close proximity, even post-heat, Douglas could clearly smell his distress and unintentionally his hand flew to grip Martin's knee. He averted the movement at the last second, but Carolyn's laser-focus hadn't missed anything. " _Douglas_." He had never heard her sound so serious, never so threatening. 

 

Douglas considered for a millisecond, then dropped the pretence. "We're not endangering anyone's safety. Neither of us." Next to him, Martin let out an obviously despairing exhale that was a cross between a sigh and a moan, and this time Douglas did grip the Alpha's knee in a vain attempt to soothe.

 

Carolyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tell me this isn't happening. Tell me that I haven't been so stupid as to employ not just one, but _two_  of you."

 

Douglas' hackles rose. "Meaning what, exactly-" he began, but Carolyn cut him off, pacing round the desk to stand in front of them.

 

"Show me your neck." She was glaring at Martin, and Douglas took a second to absorb the implication before feeling an almost hysterical laugh threaten to burst forth from him. _Poor Martin, first no one believes his captaincy, and now this_  - He stopped as an unmistakable, unintended snarl ripped out of Martin's chest. Douglas' arm was across Martin's ribs in an instant, restraining him.

 

"He's not the Alpha." Martin's voice was deadly, but then his eyes widened as he turned to Douglas. "I didn't - I didn't mean to -" Horrible guilt crumpled his expression, as if _he'd_ given them away, and Douglas moved on instinct to soothe it.

 

"She knows anyway."

 

Before Martin could reply, Carolyn was interrupting their intense moment. " _Yes, she knows_." They looked back at her, Douglas still conscious of Martin's warmth bleeding through his shirtsleeve. "I don’t need to be able to smell the two of you to guess what a sudden _three day_ sickness from two of you might mean. I’m not the idiot you seem to take me for. How could you?" She'd never sounded so unhappy, clear betrayal in her tone. 

 

"It's under control." Douglas' voice was tight, the familiar stirrings of guilt at rumbled concealment of something serious making him nauseous. To his surprise, something like faint hope came into Carolyn's eyes, though.

 

"It is?" She appeared to be on the edge of desperation.

 

Douglas nodded. "I've got - well, I'll _get_ more pills, and Martin - Martin's more like a monk than an Alpha -" Martin's angry hiss at the words diverted him, and he rolled his eyes sideways at him, trying to convey _one battle at a time, please -_

"You idiot!” Carolyn's harsh slap to the Omega's cheek spun his head abruptly to face her. "You selfish - inconsiderate -" She broke off, as Martin was suddenly standing between the pair of them, quivering, having thrown off Douglas' restraining arm as if it were of no more concern than a gnat to GERTI’s engines.

"Don't touch him, don't you dare -"

 

Horrified, Douglas yanked at Martin so firmly that he fell backwards into his lap, Martin's hat falling off and rolling unheeded to the door. "Shh," he insisted, and thankfully Martin did as he was bidden. Douglas tried to ignore the sensation of Martin pressing into him again, tried to forget how good it felt, instead staring steadily up at Carolyn and praying that somehow this might not be happening.

 

Carolyn looked as if she'd turned to ice at Martin’s outburst, but then her gaze raked the untidy pile they made on her sofa. "My apologies, _Alpha,_ " she said, her voice again low and deadly.

 

“Carolyn…” Martin was pleading, and Douglas’ heart sank. _All your fault all your fault_  his brain was telling him, and he tried to overcome the hideous guilt, knowing the only way he could salvage the situation would be to make things right for Martin, even if he couldn’t save himself.

 

“It’s not Martin’s fault,” he blurted.

 

“Of course it isn’t.” Carolyn’s sarcasm was plain. “You convinced him to hide his status before you’d even met him."

 

“He’s fine,” Douglas tried. “He can look after himself. It’s me. I’m the Ome- the problem."

 

Carolyn pursed her lips. “And if the CAA discover you? _Either_  of you?” Her eyes darted antagonistically between them both. “The crippling fine? _The jail sentence_  for anyone knowingly serving alongside either of you?"

 

Douglas shook his head. “They - they won’t find out -"

 

“I’m sorry.” Carolyn glared at the pair of them. “Risking my own neck for the pair of you is one thing. But I won’t risk my son.” 

 

A wave of guilt swamped Douglas, and he caught Martin’s expression from the side, seeing the shame evident in the captain’s face. “Hmm,” was all he could say. Silence reigned for a few moments. “So - that’s it?” he asked, and felt Martin jerk on his lap before he slid off uncoordinatedly, the absence of the Alpha’s warmth chilling Douglas' knees. “We’re fired?"

 

“You know the law.” Carolyn couldn’t seem to look at him, now. “Unbonded Alphas and Omegas cannot be pilots. Too volatile. Too... instinctually compromised. They're - _you're_ \- dangerous."

 

Douglas grappled with the thought. How could his whole world be disintegrating because of a mere 10 milligrams of ineffective chemical? One sodding blister pack of tablets that hadn’t worked? And Martin - he’d ruined Martin’s life - he didn’t dare look at him.

 

“Oh, come on, you pair of…” Carolyn’s fierce words interrupted his slide into a horrifying quicksand of shame.

 

“What?” Martin sounded utterly numb, and still Douglas couldn’t glance sideways.

 

“You’re fired if you continue to break the law. If you continue to put Arthur - and me - in jeopardy."

 

“It’s what we are. Our genes. We can’t _change_  them,” Douglas muttered.

 

“Yes.” Douglas looked up, still unable to discern Carolyn’s meaning. “Unbonded pairs are unacceptable to the CAA.” An exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to get rid of you.” Martin was trembling again, next to him, but it felt to Douglas as though they’d fallen into a dream of some kind. “ _Unbonded pairs_.” Carolyn sounded almost pleading. “You’re fired. Unless… unless you bond."

 

Douglas’ mouth fell open. Before he could react, Martin had jerked to his feet, and Douglas reached futilely for him for just a moment. The next second, the captain had gone, fleeing from the room, and all that remained for Douglas to stare at was the hat he’d left behind.


	8. Θ

Douglas felt as if he had been turned to stone. His brain was whirling, his vision seeming sharpened, and motes of dust stirred by Martin's abrupt departure pirouetted before his gaze. It took the noise of the portacabin's exterior door slamming to jar him into action.

 

"Martin!" he shouted, his voice breaking on the familiar word. " _Martin_!"

 

Just as he took a step, preparatory to running after the captain, Carolyn halted him in his tracks. "Wait."

 

He span around. " _What_?" He'd snarled without meaning to, and a stab of vindictive satisfaction flitted through him at his boss' momentary flinch.

 

"You have to give me a lift home. Arthur's gone."

 

A roaring filled Douglas' ears as Carolyn gazed implacably back at him. "A lift?" he asked. "After - my god, Carolyn - after -" He shook his head violently. "Sod off."

 

He was rarely vicious, not to women, not to his boss, much as he might tread the edge of the line of incivility sometimes; but now he was pure fury, wrath incarnate at what she - _she_ \- had done to him and Martin. His brain chose to remind him at that moment that the original offence was his, though, _the_ _black_ _market_ _pills_ , _God_ \- and the realisation did nothing to improve his mood.

 

Squashing his guilt he turned away and ran after Martin, pursuing him on legs made trembly with emotion. He threw open the door to the car park just in time to see Martin's van screeching away past the airfield's exterior fence. He dug his fingernails into his palms. _Too_ _late_. Not that he'd have known what to say to him if he'd caught him up.

 

A touch to his elbow made him jump, and he wheeled round. Carolyn had followed him outside. Douglas' rage bit at him again, but as her steely eyes met his, the emotion sputtered and died as flash-fast as it had flared.

 

"That lift?" Without another word to him, Carolyn straightened her back and walked to stand by his Lexus.

 

He hadn't any other plan. With a drawn-out exhale he followed her, unlocking the doors and allowing her to slide in while he took the driver's seat. His bag was still in the office, but he didn't care. Some mad part of him felt absurdly as though if he left it there, time might roll backwards and it might magically be three days ago when he came back to claim it. As if nothing had ever gone awry...

 

Wisely, Carolyn held her tongue for the majority of the short drive to her house. Douglas almost forgot her, so absorbed was he in mulling Martin's horror-struck response to the ultimatum she had issued them. He could see the captain's white face still, and it was a picture that engendered distress somewhere deep inside him - a distress he hadn't thought himself capable of feeling ever again, and certainly not in relation to _Martin_.

 

He jumped when Carolyn at last broke the silence. "You're not to set foot in the portacabin, Douglas." He could hear the strain in her tone; she clearly took no pleasure in what she was saying. "Not until - not until - you're.... Sorted. Martin too."

 

"Tell him yourself," Douglas snapped, knuckles white round the steering wheel.

 

"You're no coward," she murmured, causing him to emit a spitting noise reminiscent of a hissing cat. She ploughed on nonetheless. " _Talk_ to him."

 

He knew she was giving him an excuse. An excuse to ring Martin, to speak, clear the air. But the thought of Martin's apparent fury at what had transpired made his normally ready bravado wilt. He'd taken flying away from both of them. It was bad enough for him, but for Martin - for his friend who'd done nothing but fight and strive and overcome just to get airborne, for Douglas to have inadvertently dashed that all away - he could taste the guilt like poison in his mouth, and his lips twisted.

 

Throughout the drive, he could feel Carolyn watching him; he was relieved to finally pull up outside her house. He needed to be alone. Alone was safe. Alone was best.

 

"Remember what I said."

 

He could still sense Carolyn's gaze fixed on his face. "Fine." Douglas managed to keep his voice cool, emotionless. Five seconds ticked by. "Are you going?" He could feel angry despair surging beneath his calm exterior.

 

There was a beat before she opened the door. "Night." Carolyn stepped on to the pavement, though she then turned as if she had thought of something else to add. Before she had the chance, he leant to yank the door from her grasp and slammed it, pulling out into the traffic in an abrupt motion that drowned her cry after him in a growl of tortured engine revs and a screech of brakes from the van he'd cut up with his manoeuvre. He glanced in his rear view mirror before he turned the bend at the end of Carolyn's road, catching just a glimpse of her agitated waving before she was lost to his sight. 

 

He drove distractedly, making for home to begin with before he realised that there was a very real possibility that Martin would be there waiting for him. He was furious at his own cowardice, but the anger didn't help him to overcome the fear; instead of turning into his residential street he drove on, heading down the B-road that led to open countryside and the downs that ranged to Fitton's east.

 

The car climbed, and at last he pulled up in a deserted car park near the summit of one of the highest hills. He clambered out of the Lexus, ignoring the thin drizzle that steadily soaked through his thin shirt and made him shiver. He stared down into the valley beneath unseeingly, incognisant of the vista spread before him. All he could see was Martin.

 

Uncounted minutes later, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, jerking him from his chilly reverie. He fumbled to extract it, not daring to hope that it was his captain. Even so, Douglas' heart still sank on seeing the screen lit up with a text from 'Beta Dog'.

 

 _Carolyn_. The discussion about the wildlife documentary had amused him at the time, though the trip to that stupid SEP course seemed a lifetime ago. He'd hated doing the sodding eight hours in Ipswich; had worried all day about the likelihood of a snap physical that would have ruined everything. The bonding bite from his partnership with Helena had faded almost to nothing with the dissipation of their pairing, by then; a CAA examiner would simply have had to twitch his collar lower to see his transgression of their regulations, they wouldn't even have had to do an internal examination of him to know he was - by their standards - unfit.

 

He and Martin had fought that day - _of_ _course_ , _Martin_ _must_ _have_ _been_ _worried_   _for himself too_ \- but then they'd pulled through. _He'd_ pulled them through, as always, laughing inwardly as he'd postured in jest about being an Alpha. It must have felt so ironic for Martin, to keep his mouth shut that day, he mused. An actual Alpha, with an apparent Beta lording it over him. Not for the first time, Douglas marvelled reluctantly at Martin's patience and restraint.

 

Now Douglas would have given his arm for things to have been as they were then - before anyone knew, before he was revealed as - as - not even a sodding Alpha. An Omega.

 

Another snippet of memory leapt to mind. _Amigo_ _dogs_. _Amigo_. Arthur and his affable knack for mispronunciation striking again as he'd described the documentary on their way to Ipswich.

 

 _Omega_. _Amigo_. _Omega_. _Amigo_. He didn't feel like he could be either to Martin. Not anymore.

 

He dismissed Carolyn's message (' _Talk_ _to_ _him_. _Please_.') with a flick of his thumb. He brought Martin's name up, fingers sliding on the wet screen. If Martin had wanted to talk, he would have called, surely?

 

Douglas' jaw tightened. Of course Martin wouldn't want to talk. Douglas was the very last person on earth that Martin would want to hear on the phone right now. Douglas wrote a curt, guilt-ridden text instead, to the tune of 'keep-away-from-work-on-Carolyn's-command' and sent it to Martin before he even read it over again.

 

He waited for 10 minutes, 15, 30, but no reply arrived. The hill remained deserted and silent around him. And if his cheeks were wet, well, it was raining. 

 

* * *

 

 Douglas didn't return home for three hours, by which time he was soaked to the skin and felt half-frozen. He dashed indoors to try and get dry, shoving away the flicker of nausea that had risen in his stomach when Martin wasn't sitting outside his - Douglas' - house. He was unsure whether he felt relief or anguish, or both, at the last dismissal of hope that Martin might, against all the odds, have sought him out at home.

 

He was so preoccupied with trying not to examine his feelings, with the need to get dry and warm, that he failed to notice the wide tyre tracks in his gravel drive, as if a van had sat there for some time; and when he spotted them the next day, he simply put them down to the postman.


	9. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New trigger warning (mild and non-graphic - it's something merely hinted at) added to end notes for this chapter - may spoiler chapter ending which is why I've popped it there.

The whole day went by, and Douglas heard nothing from anyone at MJN. Time and again he picked up his phone, pondering calling Martin; but each time he just rotated it helplessly and put it back down. He didn’t know what to say. Despite wracking his brains for a solution to their situation, he hadn’t yet come up with anything. All he could do was curse the stupid after-heat biology that was causing him to shiver intermittently and long for nothing more complicated or challenging than a warm embrace from the Alpha who’d mated him. His post-estrual state further muddied the waters where his next action was concerned; did he have a burning desire to see Martin because it was a good idea to talk things through, or simply because he wanted to be held and soothed?

 

There was nothing Douglas hated more than to feel as if his powers of reasoning were impaired in any way. He normally despised inaction, too, and the more he stewed in indecision, the more angry and frustrated he became. Unable to settle to anything, he paced the house, cursing Carolyn, cursing Mel, cursing the circumstances of his birth that rendered him… this way.

 

 _Weak_. An old jibe from his teenage bullies echoed in his brain, and he failed to push it back behind the door of memories he usually kept locked. _Weak. Weak. Pathetic._ _Omega. Omega._ His knees felt unsteady beneath him more than once, and he reproached his mind for the lack of logic it was permitting him, to no avail.

 

It was nearly 10pm when the doorbell finally rang, making Douglas jump out of his skin. The house had been so silent around him. Without a second thought he ran to open it, relief trembling through the hand he raised to unbolt the latch. Martin had come to him at last.

 

He flung the door wide, but his gasped greeting cut off with a choking noise. “H- _Arthur_?”

 

It was indeed the steward standing on his doorstep, looking miserable. His hair was plastered flat from the rain that poured down behind him, and he held out Douglas’ flight bag almost defensively. “I wanted to bring you this." Arthur wouldn't meet Douglas' eyes. "I saw you’d left it from yesterday, while Mum and I were in the office this afternoon.”

 

“Oh.” Douglas took the suitcase. “Thank you.” He injected no warmth into the words, despite Arthur’s dejected expression. “... Was there anything else?” he ventured, trying not to sound impatient when Arthur failed to move.

 

Arthur examined his shoes, scuffing one toe into Douglas’ front doormat. “Yeah,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

 

Douglas sighed heavily as Arthur showed no signs of making progress with the words he was evidently struggling with. Against all his better judgements, he reluctantly swung the door more widely open. “Come in.”

 

Arthur glanced up, and followed him into the lounge. He took the seat Douglas had gestured towards, and laced his fingers together. “Mum,” he said, but got no further.

 

Douglas sank twitchily into a chair. “What’s she said to you?” he asked, more brusquely than he’d intended.

 

“She said… you and Skip might not be working for her anymore. For us.” Arthur met Douglas’ eyes properly for the first time. Douglas could see the desperate unhappiness brimming wetly in Arthur’s gaze. “When I asked her why… she said it was none of my business.”

 

“So you thought you’d come over and ask me instead?”

 

“No. I went to Parkside Terrace first.”

 

“You’ve seen Martin?” Douglas had asked the urgent question before he could stop himself.

 

Arthur shook his head. “He wouldn’t come to the door.” He looked more troubled than Douglas had ever seen him. “I said to the girl who’d answered the bell that I’d go up, b-but Skip just yelled from the attic at me to go away. And then… I had both your bags in the car, you see, so I thought I’d see if you would talk to me…” Arthur’s tone wobbled, just slightly – “b-because no one else will.” He paused before admitting, “Mum didn’t tell me to come. I ran away with your things this evening before she could stop me.”

 

“I see,” Douglas said. He felt limp, all the fight leaving him at once, and he sank back into his chair. Mulling what to reveal, he thought he knew why Carolyn hadn’t told her son what she’d discovered about her pilots. Knowing their CEO, it would be less from a desire to shield his and Martin’s dignity and more from a need to protect Arthur from trouble should any official investigation occur in the future.

 

 _The less he knows, the safer he’ll be_. It would be any mother’s first instinct. Any parent’s.

 

Without warning, the familiar dull throb of pain at Emily and Verity’s absence ached within Douglas’ core. He hadn’t protected them. Hadn’t stopped Mel taking Emily away, hadn’t tried to pursue Linda when she’d vanished with Verity. _Little Verity… she’d been so small…_ Douglas’ mind flitted down the lanes of memory he was used to denying himself. _We were happy… I thought we were happy_ …

 

“Douglas?”

 

Arthur’s tentative question jerked him rudely back to the present. Douglas tried to focus. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, but didn’t explain why he was apologising. In truth, he didn’t know _what_ exactly he was expressing contrition for.

 

Blithe though Arthur always was, even he seemed to sense that his first officer was trying to say sorry for something deeper than a moment’s inattention, or so Douglas thought he could judge by the trembling of the steward’s shoulders. 

 

“What’s happened?” Arthur asked, clearly making an effort to control himself. He sounded adult. It didn’t suit him. "Was it... something I did the other morning? When Martin was so angry with me?"

 

Douglas tightened his jaw, the rush of protectiveness still at high-tide within him. “It's nothing you've done. Don't worry." He paused, but remembered afresh how bad Arthur was at any kind of lie or deception. "I can’t tell you what it is, but it's not your fault.” Seeing Arthur open his mouth to protest, he rushed to forestall him. “It’s not because I think you can’t deal with hearing it, either,” he half-lied. “It’s – we’re – your Mum is trying to do the best thing for you.” 

 

Arthur looked mulish, but Douglas ploughed on. “Martin and me – we – we’ve both… done something wrong.”

 

“I don’t believe you.” Arthur clenched his hands on his knees. “I know you both. You love MJN.” He held his head higher. “I know you do, even if you pretend not to. You laugh at Martin when he says how much he likes flying, but I’ve seen you at take off. You enjoy it just as much as he does – and you play the games – and – and you like helping Mum – and spending time with me…” His eyes were suspiciously bright. “I know you do,” he said again, but now he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than Douglas. “You wouldn’t do anything that would put MJN at risk, you wouldn’t…”

 

“I did it before, remember?” Douglas couldn’t conceal the bitterness that ran beneath the words. “ At Air England. Kimonos.”

 

“You promised Mum you wouldn’t smuggle anymore!” Arthur’s voice was accusatory, now. “And Martin – Martin wouldn’t do anything against the rules-”

 

“Unless it meant he could fly,” Douglas interrupted, abruptly silencing Arthur. “And I did promise your Mum – ‘no more smuggling’ – but…”

 

He struggled. _I didn’t promise her I wouldn’t break the law._ He’d been so glad when she’d chosen just those words, just the promise about contraband. He’d squared it with his conscience that way – and besides, he’d already met Helena, then. Had suspected that they’d be bonded, given another month or so, and then there’d be no problem. He hadn’t meant to be dishonest… not seriously…

 

With a Herculean effort, Douglas turned his brain back to the situation at hand. He looked seriously over at Arthur. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I’m grateful that you… believe in me. And in Martin.” He sighed, and opened his hands. “But we’ve let you down, both of us. Your Mum’s right.”

 

Arthur shook his head defiantly. “Do something clever.”

 

“Arthur…”

 

“I mean it!” Arthur was suddenly on his feet with a marionette-jerk of limbs, and Douglas had never noticed how tall the steward really was before. “You can think of something. I know you can.”

 

“I’ve been trying all day…” Douglas stood too, reaching for Arthur in a futile attempt at pacification. “I don’t think I can.”

 

“Talk to Martin.” Arthur stepped out of his reach. “That’s what Mum shouted after me to tell you when she realised where I was going.” His hands were balled at his sides. “Have you? Talked to him?”

 

Douglas mutely shook his head.

 

Arthur exhaled hard. “Then talk to me. Properly.”

 

“I can’t,” Douglas protested, unhappily. “You have to trust me. We’re keeping you safe. All three of us.”

 

Arthur hesitated for a moment, looking so wounded that Douglas could hardly bear it. Then, in a rush, he paced out of the room, heading for the front door.

 

“Arthur – wait –“ Douglas called, pursuing him.

 

“No!” Arthur wrenched the door open. He looked back just for a moment, hair haloed by the porch lamplight. “I won’t trust someone who won’t tell me the truth.”

 

“I _can’t_ ,” Douglas groaned desperately.

 

“Fine.” Before Douglas could do anything sensible to stop him, Arthur had slammed the door. Douglas froze for a second, in a quandary about whether to follow him, but the indecision that had characterised his entire day once more had him in its grip. With a roar of frustration, Douglas seized the small vase that sat on the hall table and pitched it at the letterbox, where it smashed to smithereens.

 

“I can’t,” he said again to the empty air. He’d thought keeping Arthur safe would feel satisfying. He was wrong.

 

With a furious snarl, absently rubbing his nauseated stomach, he turned and stormed into the kitchen. He circled the table like an animal, pacing back and forth while his brain churned. _Talk to Martin. Confront Martin. Face Martin. Talk to Martin. Martin. Martin._

 

At last, long minutes later, he halted, his gaze falling on the wine rack hooked onto the wall. It had once held fine Saint Emilions and Barolos, while he’d been married to Linda; then it had been gin and vodka, strong spirits to get him through his marriage to Mel. Once he'd got sober and Helena had moved in, she’d kept squash in it, but then she had left him as well. Now it just supported two bottles. One cooking wine he’d meant to make boeuf bourguignon with. And the other… the other…

 

He stepped over, the decision clarifying in his brain even as the amber liquor sparkled and winked invitingly at him. Reaching up, he drew the Talisker free of the shelf, glass cool against his palm.

 

He knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a trigger warning for alcohol abuse (hinted at, non-graphic).


	10. K

_BRRRRRRIIIIING_.

 

Douglas leant hard on the doorbell for the second time. He stepped back and looked upwards, to where he knew Martin’s attic window looked out over the street. He couldn’t start shouting – he’d wake the neighbours. Still, although the house was dark, Douglas was certain that Martin was inside. He could feel it in his bones, even without what Arthur had said an hour earlier.

 

Shaking his head, he reached for the doorbell yet again. _BRRRR-_

 

“What do you want?” The door had opened, just a tiny amount. Douglas couldn’t see who was standing behind it, though he could guess at a youngish woman, given the girlish voice. “It’s nearly midnight!”

 

Douglas tried to give his best winning smile in the direction of the student who’d cracked the door. “Sorry.” He subtly stepped forward, causing her to back away a little. “I’ve got to see Martin.”

 

An irritated sigh, but the door opened fully. “Two visitors in one day? He’s never been this popular.” The student waved Douglas inwards, but frowned. “Or this reclusive, to be honest.” She squinted at Douglas. “Is he OK?”

 

“He’ll be… fine.” Douglas neatly side-stepped her. “I’ll show myself up, if you like. Sorry to have woken you.”

 

With a grumbly huff, the girl disappeared back into a side room, allowing Douglas to proceed cautiously up the stairs. He’d never been in Martin’s house before – had only ever seen the run-down exterior when Carolyn picked the captain up after she’d already fetched him. It was a rather damp and depressing place; wallpaper curled away from the walls in places, and there was a musty smell – something between old socks and a thousand long-since-drunk cups of tea lingering in the air.

 

Douglas followed the stairs up as far as they could go, creeping quietly on the threadbare carpet. When he got to a door marked ‘Martin’ he decided not to bother to wait to be granted entry. With a terse knock, he pushed open the door and went in.

 

“Who is it?” The room was dark, and a few metres away Douglas could hear the captain fumbling around, presumably for a light switch. “I told you, Anna, I don’t want – _oh_.”

 

The light had flicked on at last, and Martin gaped at Douglas, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “It’s you,” he said, but his face didn’t give anything away, the shock at Douglas’ unexpected visit quickly schooled into something oblique and closed-off.

 

“You didn’t reply to my text.” Douglas tried to shrug, but he'd failed to look as casual as he’d hoped to, and knew it. “I thought….” He trailed off, words eluding him.

 

Martin sat up. He was still dressed, but had obviously been lying on top of the bedcovers. “You thought?” he asked, dully, running a hand through his hair.

 

“I wanted to apologise.” There. That was a reasonable excuse for Douglas’ presence.

 

Martin barked a humourless laugh. “Apologise? You _never_ apologise.”

 

Douglas spread his hands again. “I feel terrible. About what happened. I’m disgusted that – I mean – I shouldn’t have allowed it.”

 

Martin’s face twisted, just for a tiny second, but before Douglas could interpret meaning the captain’s eyes were blank again. “We’re both to blame,” Martin said. He looked away, staring unseeingly at his sink. “I should have known my damn genes would win eventually.”

 

“I’m…” Douglas had never felt so awkward. He stepped closer, but didn’t dare to reach a hand out. “I never meant for this to happen.”

 

Martin glanced up at him, then went back to staring into the distance. “It’s fine. You didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.” A shrug that looked far too informal, too forced. “It happened anyway.”

 

“You looked after me,” Douglas said, quietly. There was an odd sensation in his chest, as if his heart was splitting apart, as if his tissues were tearing achingly slowly away from their rightful bounds. He couldn’t explain it. “You shouldn’t suffer for that. Not for my… my lie.”

 

Martin shook his head. “We both lied.”

 

“Nonetheless.”

 

A tense silence hung between them. Douglas didn’t know how to break it. He suddenly realised what was clutched in his hand, and held it out. “Here.”

 

Martin noticed the bottle for the first time. “Talisker?”

 

“I thought – perhaps a – a… something for you?” Douglas waved the bottle, then set it down on Martin’s bedside table when Martin didn’t take it.

 

Martin frowned. “Payment?” His voice was dull. “Thanks for the fuck, sorry for the inconvenience?”

 

“No!” Douglas was horrified. “No. Not that. Never that.”

 

Martin stood, and took a step towards him. “Then what?”

 

Douglas swayed forwards, just for a moment, smelling Martin for the first time. Hastily he backed off before he could give in to the temptation to reach a thumb to Martin’s cheek. _No right. I have no right to do that_.  _No matter what we said to each other while we were..._

 

He shook his head, striving for clarity. “I just… I needed to say how sorry I am. For dragging you into this. For what Carolyn suggested.” His voice faltered for a moment, but he rushed on before Martin could speak. “It’s ludicrous, totally ludicrous, for her to have suggested such a thing.”

 

Martin had opened his mouth, but at Douglas’ last sentence he closed it again with a snap before sinking back down onto his bed. “Ludicrous,” he repeated, his tones still flat.

 

“Yes.” Douglas nodded. “I’d never expect – I mean, you know I didn’t go into… what happened… expecting anything from you.”

 

“Of course not.” Martin was suddenly more businesslike, his hunched posture straightening. “I wouldn’t believe you if you said you had. People say all kinds of things in heat, after all. None of them have to... _mean_ anything.” He was still staring away though, and Douglas felt a flare of longing to see the green-flecked irises that he was so familiar with - had become familiar with as Martin had embraced him, held him, fucked him through the heat. But no matter how Douglas felt - it was selfish, he told himself. Martin was clearly struggling with the loss of his job, of his dreams, and Douglas had no right to demand anything from him. 

 

 _You didn't mean it. I didn't mean it_. Martin's words of minutes before replayed in Douglas' brain, and his heart gave another painful sear.

 

“I’m sorry too.” Martin spoke once more, seizing Douglas’ attention again. “I ran away yesterday. That was… that was wrong of me. I'm - I was - y- _the_ Alpha, after all...”

 

“No, no.” Douglas hastened to try and abort that line of thinking, guilt jabbing sharply at him. “It – that was Carolyn’s fault. And you're the one - for whom it was all... new. Not me... I was fine without you when you left.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. Douglas knew he had a duty to try to protect Martin's feelings - to salvage those he still could. The last thing Martin needed was to feel that he'd failed as an Alpha, on top of everything else. 

 

Martin bit his lip. After a second or two, he met Douglas’ gaze at last. “So… we’re fired, then.”

 

“Looks like it.” Douglas shrugged as if he didn’t care, but concern was aflame inside him. _Fired. He'd got Martin fired._  “Your captaincy…” he began, slimy guilt fuelling the blaze in his guts, but Martin interrupted.

 

“I always knew it was tenuous,” Martin said. “I knew – at any time – a physical, an inspection...“

 

“But still…” Douglas reached out a hand, which Martin ignored. “It’s because of me.”

 

“Takes two to tango.” Martin’s voice was hard, and Douglas drew his hand slowly back – almost as if Martin were a dog threatening to bite. “Don’t think any more about it.”

 

“What will you do?”

 

“I’ve got Dad’s van.” Martin suddenly got up and stepped around Douglas, gestured as if to usher him out. “I’ll be OK.” A shadow crossed his face suddenly. To Douglas’ shock, Martin asked, “But what about you?” Concern throbbed in the three words that Douglas wouldn’t have believed possible.

 

“I’ll be alright too,” Douglas fibbed, shaking off the surprise. “I – you’re sure I can’t -?” _Do anything_ , he’d meant to say, but the words wouldn’t come.

 

“Hey.” Martin did open the door, then. “I managed before. Without flying. I can manage again.”

 

“Of course.” Douglas didn’t know what to do. He’d imagined Martin raging at him, had foreseen a blazing row. This odd, icy unhappiness, though – he hadn’t been prepared for this. Against his will, his feet moved out of the attic, his senses full of the smell of Martin, the sound of his harsh breathing.

 

At the last second he turned. “Let me know. If there’s anything I can do. Anything at all.”

 

Martin nodded. “I suppose – likewise,” he said. In the dim light of the low wattage hall bulb it was difficult for Douglas to accurately read his expression. “You could – should - let Carolyn know. That we’re not coming back.” It was an order, and the finality of it made Douglas wince inwardly.

 

“I will.” He wrung his hands, the not-yet-healed bite mark on his shoulder suddenly itching beneath his shirt. “I’m – I’m so sorry. Again.”

 

Martin paused, but then he shrugged. “Forget it.” There was a further moment’s hesitation, and Douglas had the sense that Martin was making a decision. Before he could ask what it was, Martin spoke. “Just – do one thing, Douglas? One thing.”

 

Cautious hope flickered all of a sudden. “What?” Douglas asked, leaning towards Martin’s figure where he stood awkwardly before him in the doorway. Douglas could suddenly clearly picture the tenderness with which Martin had knotted him, the electric feel of Martin's possessive lips exploring his skin, and an unexpected indrawn breath gathered in his lungs as he tilted nearer to the source of the bliss in his recollections.

 

But this time Martin was the one to step back. “Please,” he said. “I need… I need not to see you, I think.”

 

Douglas froze. His thoughts of their unbridled passion vanished as effectively as if Martin had doused him in frigid water. “You need-?”

 

Martin hung his head. “I can’t deal with this. Not with you around too.”

 

“I – Fine.” Douglas had no right to ask anything of him, he knew that. “If – if that’s what you prefer.”

 

Another horrid, unnatural laugh. “There’s nothing about this that I _prefer_ , believe me,” Martin snapped, but Douglas didn’t take the chance to jibe back. He was still in shock, hollowness ringing through his chest. “It’s just – how – how it’ll have to be.”

 

“Of course.” Hurt made Douglas sharper than he intended. “ _Sir_.”

 

At that, Martin caught his eyes, and the soul-deep pain that Douglas could see made him flinch. “Don’t, Douglas,” Martin whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

 

Before Douglas could stop him, Martin had shut the door in his face. Douglas opened his mouth, but closed it again. The words wouldn’t form. He hovered uselessly for a moment, but then turned away and trudged down the stairs, back the way he’d come.

 

He’d ruined Martin’s life. The least he could do was respect his wishes.


	11. Λ

_Dear Carolyn,_

_Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from MJN Air. As you suggested in our conversation of last week, the time seems right for me to pursue new projects out of the skies; to my regret the position of First Officer no longer feels suited to my situation._

_Captain Crieff has requested that I submit his resignation along with my own; you will naturally need him to confirm this himself, but please take this letter as an indication that you should terminate our employment with immediate effect._

_I don’t doubt that you’ll find great success in the future with whoever you ~~bully~~ persuade to fill our shoes – but I hope that you understand the impact you’ve had on both our lives. Our time at MJN will certainly be memorable for the two of us, I know._

_Nonetheless, I understand your position, and wish you and Arthur nothing but the best for the journeys ahead._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Douglas Richardson_

* * *

 

_Hi, Arthur._

_I was surprised to get your email – I didn’t think I’d ever told you my address. I was glad to hear from you, though, after the way – after what happened the other night. I’m pleased you got home alright in all that rain, and that you’ve been in touch now._

_You’re right, I’ve gone abroad. I wasn’t ignoring you ringing my doorbell if you came round to my house in Fitton– I wouldn’t do that. I’m in the south of France; a friend has a holiday cottage here, and he needed a caretaker for a few weeks. So he says, at least; part of me thinks that this way he knows I won’t be round asking for whisky at his British house (I never did tell him that I’d stopped tippling – privileged information, that. Not a word, young Shappey)._

_It’s warmer here than in Fitton – there’s an outdoor pool, and an olive grove to sit in. Your Mum was quite right, it was time for me to retire. Don’t keep asking her questions – I should think she_ did _shout at you if you interrupted her in the bathroom twice. She’s done what’s best for you. You’ll have a new pilot or two, soon, and you’ll forget Martin and me. Things will be brilliant again. You just have to be patient._

_I don’t know when I’ll be back in the UK. Not for a long time, I expect. Don’t wait up. But I’ll think of you._

_All the best,_

_Douglas_

_P.S. You haven’t… heard from Martin, have you, I suppose?_

* * *

 

_Hello again,_

_Attached is the picture of the pool that you wanted. Yes, it does come with inflatables – I don’t know how you guessed that there would be some. There’s a crocodile and a dolphin, but no polar bear (come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an inflatable bear. You might be being over-optimistic if that’s what you’re holding out for when you go swimming abroad; just a thought.)_

_I’m sorry to tell you that Cannes is a long way from here, Arthur. You won’t have time to drive to meet me before you fly back home after your outbound leg. Incidentally – you’re flying again? Your Mum found more pilots?_

_Don’t tell her I asked._

_And there’s no particular reason I was enquiring about Martin. Just curious. One colleague – well, ex-colleague – asking after another, that’s all. I’m sure he’s fine. Don’t worry if he’s not answering your messages immediately – I expect he’s just busy. Job-hunting, or with his van. He’ll be OK. We both will._

_Don’t tell him I asked you about him, if you do see him. In fact – best make sure this correspondence stays between ourselves, eh? It’ll keep everyone happy, that way._

_All the best,_

_Douglas_

* * *

 

_Hi,_

_Yes, fine. Like spies, if that helps you. Just don’t breathe a word. Practice the lie you’ll tell if anyone asks. That way you’ll be ready. I know you can do it._

_Well. I know you’ll try your best._

_To answer your question, yes I have met Herc Shipwright, as it happens. I worked with him at Air England. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned me to you, if he’s who your Mum has hired as our replacement. Good pilot, I recall – bit of a smug git. But then find me a pilot who isn’t-_

_Martin wasn’t, I suppose. Martin was different._

_Not that that matters now. Are you sure he’s moved out of his house? It’s not just that he’s… busy?_

_Best,_

_Douglas_

* * *

_No, I haven’t heard from Martin either. And I don’t suppose the students would be misleading you about where he was living – especially if you couldn’t see his van. I’m sorry if he only wrote you one line in reply to your email… but I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll just be… moving on. Yes. That’ll be it. Don’t fret._

_Everything will be OK, I promise._

_The inflatable crocodile sends you his best wishes. And yes, he can be called Colin, if you like. I am on my own in the house, since you ask, by the way. No, it’s not lonely. It’s just like I used to be at home. I’m better alone, honestly. I know you can’t imagine that – but trust me, Arthur. I am. Your Mum would say the same, I’m sure._

_D_

* * *

 

_Hi Arthur,_

_I’m glad you found Martin. That sounds like some – well, surprisingly excellent detective work. But what’s he gone and moved away for? He must have had at least a couple of regular van clients in Fitton, if that’s the job he’s trying to do now he’s not at MJN._

_Don’t tell him I asked. He wouldn’t like it._

_And there’s no point in asking whether I miss him. All colleagues move on eventually – remember Nigel? Neither of us miss_ him _, do we, after all? I’m having a lovely time in the sunshine. Don’t worry. How’s Herc settling in?_

_D_

* * *

 

_Arthur,_

_I know you haven’t had a chance to reply to my last message yet, but this is very, very important. Do you have Martin’s new mobile number – or an email address for him? Don’t tell him I’ve asked you. I need to speak to him._

_D_

* * *

 

_No, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you why. Please, Arthur. I need to know._

_Martin and I have something to discuss. He won’t shout at you for giving his details to me, no matter what he said to you in the street when you found him. I promise. Just – please, I’m asking you as a friend._

* * *

 

_You’re brilliant, Arthur. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Thanks._

* * *

 

_Martin,_

_It’s Douglas. Don’t hit delete – please. I know what you said when we parted, three weeks ago. About leaving you alone. I meant to, honestly. But… something’s happened. I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you. Not on the phone. It’s probably a good job you hung up on me just now._

_Can you meet me? I’m in France at the moment – but I’m flying home tomorrow. I have to see you – I’ll come anywhere, or you can come to my house in Fitton._

_Please, Captain._

_With my best wishes,_

_Douglas_

* * *

 

With an anxious sigh, Douglas pressed ‘send’ and sent the email winging off into cyberspace. He tried to restrain the urge to refresh the page every five seconds to see if Martin had replied. Instead, he shifted his mobile phone off the letter sitting next to his laptop on the desk, and re-read the sparse type – the dry medical terminology at odds with the way the words made sweat break out on his brow and his heart rate accelerate again to a gallop.

 

_OMELABS_

_HCG TEST REPORT_

_Name: Douglas Richardson_

_D.O.B.: 26/11/58_

_Gender: O_

_Bled/Sample date: 6/6/15_

_Lab Ref No: 58112601_

_ENDOCRINOLOGY QUANTITATIVE HCG:_

_Expected ranges:_

_Positive pregnancy test = values >5.8_

_Negative pregnancy test = values <5.8_

_DOUGLAS RICHARDSON: 93.2_

_RESULT: Positive pregnancy test_

 

 

Douglas pushed the paper away, and buried his head in his arms.


	12. Μ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a mention of abortion in this chapter.

Pacing round his lounge for the eighth time, Douglas felt like a caged tiger. It was a cage of circumstances, rather than physical bars, but nonetheless he had never felt so trapped. More than once he wished he was back in France – or better still, back in Inverness and able to overturn the whole fateful decision that had led to him welcoming Martin into his bed – but since neither option was actually a possibility, he settled for moodily kicking at the coffee table each time it got in the way of his agitated circuit around the room.

 

Martin was due to arrive any minute. Douglas still hadn’t spoken to him; he’d just received a terse email in reply to his own on his arrival back at Heathrow. Martin had merely given him a time of arrival the following day – Douglas had responded to confirm, and there had been silence ever since. His stomach rolled with nervous anticipation, and he swallowed back a gush of sour saliva.

 

He could do without morning sickness, just now. It had been that particular – symptom – that had alerted him to the sense that something was… wrong. Different. Nevertheless, he’d refused to believe the possibility right up until the French GP had posted him the translated test results. He couldn’t be pregnant. He just couldn’t.

 

Except that he was.

 

How could he tell Martin? He still hadn’t worked out which words to use, what to say…

 

Just as his anxiety rose to fever pitch, the doorbell rang. Douglas took a deep breath. He was out of time.

 

* * *

 

“Do go through, Martin.” Douglas ushered his former colleague in, waved towards the lounge. “Thank you so much for coming all this way.”

 

Martin looked unhealthily pale, his lips a thin line. At Douglas’ words, though, he looked round in apparent surprise. “All this way?” He frowned. “You know I moved?”

 

Douglas shrugged a little guiltily. “Arthur might have… mentioned it.”

 

Martin shook his head, but went in as directed. He hovered awkwardly before perching himself on a chair. “What is it that you want?” He ran a hand through his hair, Douglas catching a glimpse of the hole in the underarm of his threadbare T-shirt as he did so. “Your email sounded serious.” Martin didn’t look quite as if he believed it, though.

 

“Oh, yes. Um. Thanks for coming.” Douglas had never before had so much trouble with finding the right words to say.

 

“You said that already.” Martin's voice sharpened.

 

“Can I get you a drink?” Douglas knew he was stalling and Martin recognised it too, his frown deepening.

 

“No thanks.” Martin stood up. “Douglas… this really isn’t – I mean, whatever you have to say, just tell me, please.” He suddenly looked very vulnerable, his auburn hair vividly bright where it frizzed next to his pale cheeks.

 

Douglas opened his mouth, then shut it again. He wrung his hands together, digging his nails into his knuckles, but even the little flash of pain didn’t help to ground him. When he spoke, it felt as if it were from millions of miles away.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry….” He hesitated. Mercifully, Martin didn’t interrupt him – just scrutinised him and waited for whatever Douglas would say next.

 

 _What_ do _I say next?_

 

Douglas heaved in a breath of cool air, yet still felt strangled. The bald truth. That was all he could offer.

 

“I’m pregnant.” He stared at the floor, unable to look at Martin.

 

There was a moment’s complete silence, during which Douglas almost imagined he could hear the empty air swirling between them. Then –

 

“You’re not.” Martin laughed, a hysterical sounding noise, just for two seconds. Then the high chuckle cut off as if guillotined. Douglas looked up to see Martin stumble backwards, flopping shakily into the chair he’d only just vacated.

 

Martin shook his head, more desperately this time. “You – can’t be.”

 

“I am.” Douglas’ voice cracked. He didn’t dare go near the quivering captain – well, ex-captain - opposite him.

 

“But – but… how?” Martin stared across at him. His face had gone so white it was almost translucent. “We – I got you the tablets…”

 

“They didn’t work.” Douglas’ stomach rolled ominously again and he swallowed hard.

 

“Pregnant.” Martin clearly wasn’t really processing the word, judging by the trembling hands, the eyes wide and frightened. “You’re sure?”

 

Wordlessly, Douglas fished the now-crumpled lab report from his back pocket. He held it out, but Martin didn’t rise to take it – instead Douglas was forced to cross the room to press it into Martin’s unwilling hands. “Here.”

 

Martin scanned the paper, absorbing the detail. His eyes fixated on the spot near the bottom where Douglas knew the stark fact of his condition was printed. “I’m… I don't know… what to tell you...” Douglas said, and pressed a hand to his mouth. The nausea was so intense he could almost taste the bile.

 

Martin looked up. “The tablets,” he said, firmly, as if trying to talk the facts out of existence. “We paid for them.”

 

Douglas winced. “Sorry –“ he said again, but then his guts clenched within him. Almost too late, he realised what was going to happen. He sprinted from the room and made it to the kitchen, where he abandoned the attempt to reach the bathroom and threw up violently into the sink.

 

“D-Douglas?” Martin sounded terrified, behind him. He'd obviously run after Douglas, who hung over the bowl, hiding his face for as long as he could before he turned reluctantly round to meet Martin’s gaze again. He tried to squash the blurred recollection of how they'd acted out a similar scene to this in the hotel, less than a month before.

 

Martin had stopped shaking, was holding out a glass of water that Douglas must have left on the table from breakfast. “Are you alr…?”

 

He didn’t finish the question, but Douglas took the cup and drank, chasing the acid taste away. “I’m –“ He’d been about to say ‘fine’ but that didn’t really fit the facts. “Morning sickness,” he said curtly instead, but regretted it when Martin flinched as if he’d been slapped.

 

“No.” Martin stepped backwards, sank unseeingly into a kitchen chair – echoing his action from the lounge. “No, no, no…”

 

Unable to bear seeing Martin’s distress, Douglas slid into the seat next to his. Setting the glass aside, he reached out tentatively to cover Martin’s clenched fists where they rested on the table with his own hands. “Martin…” he murmured.

 

He got no further before Martin looked up and met his gaze, eyes looking suspiciously damp. “How could this happen?” Martin choked.

 

A hysterical snigger of his own fell inappropriately from Douglas’ mouth. “If I need to tell you…” he began, only for Martin to bruisingly grip his hands.

 

“ _Don’t_.”

 

Douglas fell silent and nodded. Shame coursed through his veins. “I’m sorry,” he said, yet again.

 

“Stop it.” Martin shook his head. There was a moment’s pause before he asked, sounding confused, “Why did you tell me?”

 

Douglas blinked. He withdrew his hands, regretting the loss of warmth almost instantly. “Because it’s yours, you clot.” He was bewildered. “Didn’t I make that clear?”

 

“No, I know.” Desperation edged into Martin’s tones. “I _know_. But – but you don't want a baby with me. You don’t want this.”

 

“I never said that.” Douglas leant back in his chair, some feeling he couldn’t define flipping over in his chest.

 

“You did!” Martin contradicted him, mild indignation thrumming in his voice.

 

“We never discussed it.” Douglas frowned.

 

“You said that you didn’t think that the universe was ready for an –“ Martin sketched air quotes with his fingers – “’unholy union of our genes’. Don’t deny it.”

 

Douglas blinked. Those did sound like his words, not Martin’s… he wracked his brains. “When…?” he asked, weakly.

 

“The first night we were… together.” Martin glared fiercely at him.

 

“Oh.” Douglas understood. “You can’t expect me to remember specific _words_ I used during a heat.” He looked guilelessly back at Martin, surprised to see him appearing unconvinced.

 

“You remember everything, usually.” Martin clearly didn’t trust what Douglas had said.

 

Douglas gave a startled laugh. “But – that’s not how memory works, during heat. You must know that. The flood of hormones – the, the desperation. The closeness to an Alpha, the relief when…” Douglas flushed. “You know. The emotions. That’s what Omegas remember. Not exactly what conversations they had, who said what to whom. The hormones trump the short term memory engrams – your body’s just too busy doing other things… sating the need.”

 

Martin just frowned harder, and with a sickening sinking sensation Douglas repeated “You _must_ know that… surely?”

 

Martin slowly shook his head. “Why would I know?”

 

“Ah.” Douglas was hit amidships all over again by the realisation of Martin’s inexperience. “No one’s ever explained to you.”

 

“No.” Martin knotted his fists. “Sex ed was focused on Betas, even for my generation.”

 

“Oh.” Douglas didn’t know what to say. “I had heard… things had improved, in that regard.”

 

“Nope.” Martin glared furiously at his hands. “But that’s beside the point.” He pushed a finger over the table surface, crossly. “You _did_ say… what I said.”

 

Douglas cursed himself. “I was… being flippant?” he said, aware that he sounded unconvincing. Now Martin had described his throwaway sentence, a faint memory of it was stirring. He’d needed the contraception… that was what had provoked the comment. “I needed to persuade you to leave me.” That was better, there was more certainty now. “I needed you to get the tablets. That’s why I said that.”

 

“The tablets.” Martin’s voice was flat. “That didn’t work.”

 

Douglas was assailed by guilt all over again. “I… probably threw up too much of them,” he said quietly. “It’s my fault.”

 

“No!” This time it was Martin who grabbed for him, clutching at Douglas’ wrists with surprising forcefulness. Douglas jumped, and Martin instinctively loosened his hold slightly, chafing Douglas’ arm with a thumb. “It’s no one’s fault – I mean, it’s mine if it’s anyone’s, I, I did this – but you - we - wanted - that is, we were too… we didn’t…” Martin trailed off, apparently unable to find a conclusion.

 

Douglas watched Martin silently, feeling like a spectator to the intense struggle he could see going on under the surface. After a moment, Martin bit his lip, seeming suddenly terribly young. “Douglas,” Martin whispered, agony in his eyes, “what are we going to do?”

 

Douglas sighed. He looked over to the kitchen window, staring into the garden without noticing the view. “I’m not demanding anything from you,” he began, slowly. “I didn’t tell you because… because I wanted anything.” He was conscious of Martin’s warm hands still cradling his wrist, and drew strength from the touch, somehow. “But I… I don’t think I can… get rid of it.”

 

Martin let out a _whoosh_ of breath. “You don’t want an abortion?”

 

Douglas misunderstood, mistaking relief for anger, and spoke defensively. “I told you that I got pregnant my first partnered heat.” He shut his eyes. “We were so young, Linda and me. Too young. No jobs, no money, no qualifications.” The intense memories flitted through his brain. “Our families intervened – they paid…” He felt sick all over again. “We didn’t have the baby.”

 

“Douglas…” Martin breathed, barely a whisper. Douglas could hear the distress in Martin’s voice.

 

“I can’t,” he said, fiercely. “I’m sorry. Never again. I won’t – I can’t –“ To his shame he had to stop for fear he would sob. After a few seconds, he went on. “I’m sorry if it upsets you – I have to try –“

 

“Hey – no.” Douglas blinked his eyes open in surprise at the firmness of Martin’s tone. “It’s not you _having_ the baby that would upset me, you idiot.” Martin’s hands tightened on his. “It’s the idea of you _hurting_ it.” Martin’s voice shook. “I thought – when you said you were pregnant – I thought you would just….”

 

“Never,” Douglas said, adamantly. “I would never have an abortion. Not again.” Relief flew through him in a giddy rush, though he steadied himself. “But still…”

 

“It’s complicated.” Martin said the words before Douglas had a chance to.

 

“Desperately.” Douglas nodded.

 

Slowly, deliberately, Martin withdrew his hands, sitting up straighter – as if he were at a flight briefing. His face shuttered, the distress of moments before being hidden from Douglas before the FO could properly soothe it away. “What do we do, then?” Martin asked, evidently trying to sound professional.

 

Douglas’ heart protested the shift, but he concealed it, attempting to echo Martin’s detachment. He too sat up, steepled his fingers even as further nausea oozed through his insides. “I’ll understand if you still don’t want to see me,” he said. “I don’t expect your position to change just because – of this.”

 

Martin regarded him silently. Douglas couldn’t read his facial expression, so pressed on. “Or I can keep you in touch with how things are progressing. If you don’t mind hearing from me from time to time.” Martin frowned, and Douglas rushed on. “Or you can… be as involved as you like. There will be things I need to do. Hospital appointments. Scans. You know. If you want to – to come to those….” He left the invitation in the air, scanning Martin’s face to try and interpret the captain’s thoughts.

 

Martin was quiet for several long minutes. “I don’t live in Fitton anymore,” he said, his eyes flicking to Douglas’ before darting away again.

 

“Where?” Douglas asked the half-question, knowing Martin would understand.

 

“Anglesey.”

 

“Wales?” Douglas was incredulous. “What – why did you go all the way _there_?”

 

Martin swallowed and wouldn’t look at him. “I couldn’t be around – couldn’t be reminded of –“ Something seemed to occur to him, and he smoothed away the unhappy expression. “Planes,” he said, and fell silent.

 

“Oh.” Douglas’ heart sank. “Of course.” _Martin’s dreams. That’s what he’s been grieving._

 

“I can… come back, from time to time.” Martin worried the skin at the edge of his thumbnail. “For the appointments.”

 

Douglas was still trying to process the guilt of what he’d done to Martin’s career plans, and it took him a moment to realise what Martin had said. “Appointments?”

 

“Yes.” Martin shrugged. “If that’s OK.” He sounded too deliberately casual.

 

Douglas raced to collect his scattered thoughts. “Yes. Yes, of course. That would be…. Yes.” He stood and walked to the kitchen notepad, checking the details. “My first meeting with the midwife is next Tuesday, at Fitton General. 4.30.” He passed the paper to Martin. “If you like…?” he asked, uncertainly.

 

Martin looked down, noted the details. “I’ll come.”

 

“Thanks.” Douglas wondered if he was going to be sick again.

 

Martin stood up, the chair grating loudly into the silence. “I’d better…”

 

“Oh. Yes.” Douglas stepped forward. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

 

“Hmm.” Martin didn’t explain what his grunt meant, instead heading back towards the hallway. Douglas followed him, and when he reached the front door Martin turned.

 

“Thanks. For telling me.”

 

Douglas blinked in surprise. “Thanks yourself. For not…. Well. You know.”

 

Martin regarded him for a moment, head to one side. Something painful seemed to be twisting inside him, but then he gave a crooked, watery smile. “Pregnant,” he said, his voice wondering. “I never thought…”

 

“Neither did I.” Douglas stepped towards Martin without meaning to, the two of them swaying nearer on instinct.

 

But both of them seemed to catch themselves at the same time. Martin drew back, groping for the latch. “I have to go,” he said.

 

“See you next week.” Douglas tried to ignore the sharp twinge of regret in his throat.

 

Martin nodded. “I won’t say anything to anyone.”

 

“It’s too early,” Douglas agreed. “I…. hope you have a safe journey.”

 

Martin hesitated a second longer, then with a curt jerk of his chin he stepped out of the door, and was gone.

 

Douglas closed it behind him, leaning heavily against it. He reached to rub his eyes, and realised his hand was shaking. “Idiot,” he cursed himself. He managed to steady his fingers, a tiny part of him satisfied to regain control.

 

He considered for a moment – then, for the first time, he allowed himself to follow through on the instinct that had been nudging more and more powerfully at him over the past three days. He smoothed his hands downwards, till they framed his stomach, and he gently stroked his belly.

 

Hesitating for just a moment, he took a breath. “Hello,” he whispered - and a surge of simultaneous fear and warmth nearly knocked him off his feet. "Hello, there."


	13. N

The following Tuesday, Douglas was tense as he listened out for the rumble of Martin’s van arriving outside his house. The two of them had communicated sparsely by text over the five days they’d been apart, arranging that Martin would drive them to the appointment; but the old, easy relationship that had existed between them in the flight deck seemed to be a thing of the past. Martin’s answers to Douglas’ friendly – though tentative – enquiries had been brief to the point of terseness, and Douglas had quickly stopped any attempt at teasing. The risks of being misunderstood without the context of an in-person conversation were too great.

 

Douglas hadn’t been feeling well enough to really try amicably mocking Martin as he'd used to, anyway. His morning sickness had got worse, to the point where he could hardly keep anything down; and for the past two days he’d been plagued by a needling headache that was impossible to ignore. He hoped the midwife would be able to help: the thought of enduring much more of feeling this awful wasn’t a pleasant one.

 

His head jerked up as he heard the groaning coughs of Martin’s van pulling into his driveway at last. Collecting his keys, he hesitated on the doormat for a second before going outside, trying to work out whether he was about to throw up for the umpteenth time that day, or whether he was just intensely nervous. With a frustrated sigh, he gave up wondering and patted his back pocket, feeling the reassuring crispness of the paper bag he’d stashed there just in case.

 

 _All glamour, pregnancy_. He’d almost forgotten... though he’d never felt this unwell with Emily and Verity.

 

The bell rang just as he opened the door, and he found Martin hovering tensely on the step. “Hello,” Douglas said, trying to smile, not reassured by the awkward nod Martin gave in return.

 

“Hi.” Martin shifted from foot to foot. “You ready?”

 

“Coming.” Douglas locked the door behind them, and traipsed after Martin to climb up into the van. He shivered a little as his brow beaded cold sweat, and he was grateful that Martin didn’t seem to notice as he fumbled with the seatbelt, nerves and queasy weakness making him clumsy.

 

Martin started the engine again and drove away, and Douglas just caught the Alpha's glance sideways at him. “How are you?” Martin asked, as politely and formally as if they’d only just been introduced.

 

Douglas hummed noncommittally, attempting to ignore the way his guts were twisting with the motion of the vehicle. “Fine,” he lied. He looked over, interrupting Martin’s second attempt at a surreptitious glance – the captain’s eyes flicking away from his immediately. “How’ve you been?”

 

“Oh… busy,” Martin said, but the words had a definite air of a bluff about them. “Had a few jobs… moving tourists into holiday homes… moving an office to a new warehouse… you know.”

 

“Right.” Douglas wished he could think of something more engaging to say, but his nausea was getting the better of him again. It wasn’t very far to the hospital – a twenty-minute drive at most – but he suddenly didn’t think he was going to make it. “Martin?”

 

“Mm?” Martin was concentrating on negotiating the road - this side-street being full of speed humps for him to bump over.

 

Douglas was sure he’d just turned virulent green and he felt bile climbing up his throat. “Martin, stop.”

 

“Stop what?” Martin looked across to him, mystified, but it was too late. Douglas grabbed for his pocketed sick bag and hurled into it, miserable retching noises emanating from his throat. He felt clammy and cold, and even the feeling of Martin’s hand rubbing between his shoulder blades for a moment once he’d pulled over couldn’t distract Douglas from the crippling sickness.

 

After a horrible minute’s vomiting, he sat back, and Martin snatched his hand away again before Douglas could relax into the touch. “Sorry,” Douglas apologised, voice hoarse.

 

“Is it always this bad?” Martin sounded worried to death.

 

“Um.” Douglas desperately didn’t want Martin fretting over him, but he didn’t want to lie either. “I don’t really remember.” He chanced a glance over, but Martin was just staring at his lap, examining his fingers as if he didn’t know where to look. “We can carry on if you want.” Embarrassment made his face feel hot. “I think I’m done.”

 

Martin nodded and pulled out into the traffic again, driving more gently this time. “Are you…” he began, but trailed off.

 

Douglas raised a curious eyebrow. “What?”

 

Martin shrugged. “Are you… looking after yourself?”

 

Douglas stiffened. “What kind of a question is that?”

 

Martin frowned. “A concerned one.”

 

“Of course I am,” Douglas retorted brusquely, irritation prickling under his skin.

 

Martin didn’t sense the dangerous tone, and carried on. “You don’t look well.”

 

“You try throwing up eight – no, _nine_ – times in a day and see how sparkly you appear to others.” Douglas folded his arms.

 

Martin tutted. “You said you were fine!”

 

His indignant objection just served to nettle Douglas further, embarrassment and awkwardness mutating into genuine anger. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped, irascibly.

 

Martin turned to glare at him as he swung into the hospital grounds. “Of _course_ it’s my business,” he growled. “You’re carrying my baby –“

 

Abrupt fear surged inside Douglas, born of Emily and Verity’s removal from him. “ _Our_ baby,” he snarled, enraged even more intensely when Martin gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

“Yes, yes, that’s what I meant –“

 

“Then _say_ what you mean!”

 

“What’s got into you?”

 

Douglas didn't respond and instead fumed in silence. His nausea was making him irritable, he knew, but it didn’t help him to quash the flood of anger that had arisen from Martin’s query. It had felt possessive… he wasn’t Martin’s… it was _their_ baby...

 

As Martin parked, though, Douglas managed to calm down a little. _Martin’s question wasn’t that intrusive,_ he grudgingly admitted to himself. He’d just taken it badly…

 

He tried to catch Martin up as they got out and Martin strode off. “Wait!”

 

Martin turned, hands clenched by his sides. “What?”

 

Douglas caught him. “Sorry.”

 

Martin raised an eyebrow and – after a moment’s hesitation – nodded. “S’OK.” He considered something for a second, then stepped a little closer. “I was just worried about you…”

 

“I know.” Douglas felt like a heel. “I’m cranky.”

 

Martin frowned. “You don’t look well at all, you realise.”

 

Douglas glared, but tried to blot out the renewed annoyance. “Shall we go in?” he asked, as politely as he could.

 

Martin’s face fell for reasons Douglas didn't understand, though the Alpha immediately nodded. “Lead on.”

 

They walked into the hospital, side by side, Douglas wrinkling his pregnancy-sensitised nose at the antiseptic smell. He followed the signs through the warren of corridors, disarmed to discover that the midwives’ clinic was in exactly the same set of rooms it had been in a decade before. It felt horribly like going back in time. The waiting area was nearly empty when they checked in, and Douglas perched uncomfortably on one of the plastic seats – trying hard not to meet the eyes of either of the other pregnant Omegas that were also waiting their turn. The fact that they were clearly half his age did nothing for his self-esteem or confidence; nor did the fact that their Alphas were practically draped over them protectively while Martin seemed just as conversely keen to strain away from him as much as possible, judging by his posture in the chair next to Douglas.

 

One of the other pairs was called almost straight away, but Douglas jumped as Martin bent a bit closer to whisper to him, trying not to disturb the quiet atmosphere.

 

“Douglas?”

 

“Yeah?” He looked over, seeing Martin’s leg jiggling with what he could only assume was nervous tension.

 

“What – what’s actually going to happen today, anyway?”

 

Douglas cast his mind back. “From memory… it’s mostly form-filling. They’ll do blood and urine samples… blood pressure… maybe have a bit of a chat about the birth…”

 

“The birth?” Martin squeaked, then remembered to whisper again. “Already?”

 

Douglas nodded. He would have found Martin’s alarm comical if it hadn’t been about something that affected them both so gravely. “Don’t worry,” he murmured back. “I’ll just say we haven’t discussed it yet.” Martin appearing mildly reassured by this, Douglas went on. “And they’ll probably offer me advice – what to eat and not to eat, how to travel, how my Alpha should –“

 

He cut himself off sharply. Just for a second, he’d forgotten; Martin had leant so close to him to whisper, and he could smell him, and for a moment – one moment – their situation had fallen away and it was him and Martin doing this together –

 

They weren’t together.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “That doesn’t apply in our situation, obviously…” _  
_

 

Martin had winced bodily at the slip of the pronoun, and Douglas' heart sank. He didn't know what hurt more - Martin's clear desire not to be with him, or the fear that if Martin really did get fed up with him that he'd have to do this alone. _Martin's face_ \- for a second he had looked as if Douglas had slashed at him with a knife, and Douglas didn't fully understand why.

 

Before Douglas could ponder the meaning of Martin’s strange flinch any longer, the door opened and a friendly lady poked her head out. “Mr Richardson?” she called, and Douglas got up – the Martin conundrum slipping from his brain as his nervousness beat a renewed tattoo on the inside of his skull.

 

The two of them followed her into her small room, and took the indicated chairs. “I’m Elise,” the midwife said with a smile. “Congratulations to both of you.”

 

“Thanks,” they mumbled in unison, rather ungraciously. Elise’s eyes scanned them and she seemed to take in their awkwardness.

 

“First time?” she enquired, with another smile.

 

“Not for me,” Douglas said. “I’ve had two girls already. But –“

 

“First time for me,” Martin chipped in firmly.

 

“I see,” she said. “Don’t worry. We’ll go through everything slowly for the pair of you.”

 

“We’re not,” Martin said, heavily.

 

“Not what?”

 

“A pair.” Martin’s ears were pink with what Douglas could only assume was embarrassment. “We’re not bonded.”

 

To Douglas’ relief, Elise just nodded and made a note on her computer. “Not to worry, that’s fine.”

 

As Douglas had predicted, the first half of the appointment was very routine; blood taken, what felt like hundreds of questions answered by the two of them regarding their medical histories, their families, their hopes for the pregnancy (the latter proving something of a time for silent contemplation rather than definite responses – they both seemed struck dumb). When they got to Douglas’ intense nausea, though, Elise’s eyebrows raised; and then she took his blood pressure and frowned even more.

 

“What is it?” Martin asked, before Douglas had a chance to say anything. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Your blood pressure’s high. Very high.” Elise removed the cuff. “And the nausea as well…” She didn’t finish her sentence, to Douglas’ irritation and anxiety.

 

“What about it?” he asked, curtly.

 

Elise consulted her screen, which was angled out of their view. She seemed worried, a little muscle ticking in her cheek as she pondered something silently. Douglas’ heart rate abruptly accelerated as Elise finally met his eyes again. “I’d like you to see our consultant.”

 

“You’ll send an appointment?” Martin’s words felt to Douglas as if they’d come from a million miles away.

 

Elise shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Today. Urgently.”

 

Without another word to reassure them, she swept out of the room.


	14. Ξ

As Elise left, Martin turned fretfully to Douglas. “This isn’t normal, is it?” he asked, clearly perturbed.

 

Douglas shook his head slowly. His fingers were clamped around his thigh, and his mouth was dry. Swallowing hard, he tried his best to reassure. “I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.”

 

“How? How do you know?” Martin stood up and tried to pace, thwarted by the tiny room. “You can’t know that.”

 

Douglas’ anxiety tripped into irritation again. “Fine, I don’t know,” he retorted, and stared away from Martin.

 

“See?” Martin came to a halt, hands on hips. “You always _say_ these things, Douglas, and you make promises you can’t keep, and –“

 

Just as Douglas was about to snap back at him, the door swung open again and Elise re-entered the room, this time followed by an older man whom Douglas took to be the doctor. He shook both of their hands and introduced himself. “Hello there. I’m Dr Bider.” He sounded foreign, though Douglas couldn't place the accent.

 

“Douglas. And this is my – Martin,” Douglas said, then cursed himself at his verbal slip. _Why does Martin’s name have to begin with ‘m’, for goodness’ sake?_

 

Martin took his chair again as the consultant examined the data Elise had already collected. Elise slipped out of the room with a quiet “I’ll leave you to it.” They barely noticed her go, so fixated were they on trying to interpret the doctor’s facial expressions as he scanned the readings.

 

At last, he looked up. “You’ve been feeling fairly poorly then, Mr Richardson?”

 

Douglas nodded reluctantly. “Bit of a headache,” he said.

 

“He’s been sick nine times today,” Martin chipped in, glaring at Douglas. “Don’t downplay it.”

 

Douglas clenched his hand in frustration. “Fine,” he growled. “I don’t feel good at all. It wasn’t like this with my first two.”

 

“Hmm.” Dr Bider pushed his glasses up his nose with a deliberate finger. “Elise said the two of you aren’t bonded, is that right?”

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Martin asked, annoyance vibrating in his voice. “Can’t you just tell us what’s wrong?”

 

On instinct (born of a thousand joint disagreements with Carolyn), Douglas reached out to calm the captain, but froze in mid-air before he could follow the action through and take Martin’s hand. “He’s getting there,” he said instead, trying to speak calmly. “Aren’t you?” he asked the doctor.

 

Doctor Bider’s eyes were tracking Douglas’ movement, to his surprise, but he nodded. “I am. Just a couple more questions.” He shuffled the papers on Elise’s desk, looking slightly awkward. “It’s a delicate question, but… the two of you… You are _living_ together?”

 

Martin blanched and Douglas felt his insides freeze. “No,” he said, shortly. “We just… used to work together. That’s all.”

 

“That’s all,” Martin echoed.

 

“A-ha.” The consultant’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m sorry to ask. Living arrangements are highly sensitive, I know.”

 

“How’s it relevant?” Martin’s voice was brittle.

 

The doctor steepled his fingers. “You’re 56, Mr Richardson?”

 

“Yes.” Douglas felt cold all over. “Am I too old…?” _To have this baby,_ he wanted to say, but he couldn’t form the words. Suddenly, more than anything, all he wanted to do was to hold Martin’s hand. And he couldn’t. And he thought his heart might be breaking.

 

Instead, he dug his fingernails into his palms, waiting for the lightly accented voice to speak again.

 

“Not entirely too old, no.” Doctor Bider shook his head. “Your age is a potential… complicating factor, I won’t deny it. But Omegas have been known to reproduce successfully well into their 70s.”

 

“They have?” Douglas asked.

 

“I didn’t know that.” Martin didn’t sound at all like his usual self.

 

“No, our society is still stuck in the Dark Ages when it comes to discussing such things publicly,” Doctor Bider sighed, suddenly sounding very tired. Douglas sensed that this was a sentence he’d trotted out on multiple occasions before. “If only people would realise that it’s just biology –“

 

“Doctor, please,” Martin interrupted, and a wave of relief hit Douglas. Martin taking charge – well, it shouldn’t have felt unexpected, but in this context –

 

“What’s wrong with me?” Douglas asked. 

 

“Of course.” The doctor leant back in his chair. “The good news is that your ill health can be rectified.”

 

“How?” Martin blurted.

 

“Will the baby be alright?” Douglas asked, just as urgently.

 

“I think that the problem is simply that you’re a – what we would call ‘geriatric Omega’, and one without an Alpha.” Doctor Bider held his hands up. “Please don’t look so offended. I use the term geriatric in its purely medical sense.”

 

Douglas gave a crotchety huff, but his focus was still on the child he was carrying. “The baby?” he asked again.

 

“I’m getting to it.” Doctor Bider leant forward. “Our hormones grow less tolerant of any pheremonal imbalance as we age. Were your two previous pregnancies – did they take place within a bonded relationship?”

 

“Ye-es…” Douglas said, slowly. “Are you saying –“ He didn’t dare to believe it.

 

Doctor Bider nodded, with the satisfied air of someone fitting a final piece into a jigsaw. “If there is no Alpha around, at – well, I’m sorry to be indelicate, but at your age, your body will struggle to deal with the pregnancy. And there could be developmental implications for your unborn child, too.”

 

Douglas let out a gust of despairing breath. “But…”

 

“But _we can’t bond_.” Martin was gripping the legs of his chair, an odd, awkward posture that conveyed sheer desperation.

 

Desolation flooded Douglas’ soul. He placed a hand on his stomach almost without thinking about it. “You don’t work for Carolyn, do you?” he asked the consultant, numbly, stupidly.

 

“Carolyn?” The doctor’s good-natured face clearly displayed his confusion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

 

“Stop it, Douglas.” Martin turned back to the doctor. “What can we do?”

 

“You’re right that you can’t bond. There won’t be a heat again until several months after your baby’s born.”

 

“The baby… can still be born?” Martin had never sounded so simultaneously incredulous and comforted, and a tiny part of Douglas thrilled to the relief in his tone.

 

 _Perhaps Martin really does want this baby._ He hadn’t dared to believe it, before.

 

Doctor Bider was nodding. “Yes, absolutely.” He looked very grave, though. “But the pregnancy cannot continue as it has.”

 

“No.” Martin shook his head adamantly. “Douglas looks awful.”

 

“Thanks _so_ much,” Douglas said, his old sarcasm spilling over. “The same to you, _darling_.”

 

Martin flinched, to Douglas’ surprise, and turned a furious face towards him. “Shut _up_ ,” he insisted, and Douglas obeyed in his amazement. “Sorry, doctor.” Martin had the grace to look sheepish. “How can you help Douglas?”

 

Doctor Bider pursed his lips. “It’s not me that can help,” he said, slowly.

 

It took a few seconds, but what he was suggesting dawned on both pilots at the same time. “H-how?” Douglas asked, weakly. “If we can’t bond, then…”

 

“Live together,” the consultant said, bluntly. “The best thing I can suggest is proximity.”

 

“How much… proximity?” Martin asked. His mouth had twisted, and his face was very white.

 

“Share meals. Living space.” Doctor Bider looked at them both very seriously. “I’d recommend physical contact, if you can.”

 

Douglas’ heart had sunk through the floor at the expression on Martin’s face. “You want us to sleep together?” he asked, numbly.

 

“No, no.” The doctor shook his head. “No need to go that far, if that’s not what either of you want. Living in the same residence should be sufficient.”

 

“Oh.” Douglas heard Martin exhale heavily next to him. “This is… really the best course of action?”

 

The consultant nodded. “If the idea is totally unpalatable, there are synthetic Alpha pheromones with which we can try beginning an injection regimen… but they never work so effectively, and will increase the risk to your baby.” Douglas’ hand tightened on his stomach. Doctor Bider cleared his throat. “I expect you need some time to discuss it.”

 

“Yes please,” Douglas choked. He didn’t dare to look at Martin.

 

“Of course,” the doctor said, understandingly. “I’ll ask Elise to make you an appointment for next week.”

 

“How… soon do we… need to…?” Martin’s question trailed off.

 

“As soon as possible.” Doctor Bider’s face was all seriousness. “This early stage of pregnancy is a crucially formative one for your baby.”

 

“I see.” Martin tilted heavily backwards in his chair.

 

“Very good.” The consultant stood. “I’ll see you next week in my clinic – I’d like to put you both under my care, just so we make sure that things continue well.” He smiled at them, obviously trying to make things better. “If you come on a Monday, we usually have muffins…” His voice trailed away when they failed to react.

 

“Muffins?” Martin asked, blankly, but Douglas had already stood up.

 

“Thank you.” He shook the doctor’s hand. “We’ll show ourselves out.”

 

He looked round to see Martin stand too, and together they walked back into the waiting room. They got into the corridors, beginning to thread their way back towards the car park. It took several minutes before either of them spoke, and when they did, it was at the same time.

 

“Well –“ Douglas said, just as Martin said, pleadingly, “ _Douglas_.”

 

They stopped in the foyer, and turned to look at each other, heedless of the patients and public moving around them. Douglas could see the worry lines crinkling Martin’s brow, the freckles dotting the pale face, and his heart clenched painfully.

 

“What are we going to do?” Martin asked, vulnerability weakening his voice into a near-whisper.

 

Douglas took a deep, steadying breath. “We’re going to the pub.”

 

Martin raised his eyebrows. “You’re pregnant.”

 

“ _Really_?” Sarcasm bit sharply into Douglas’ tones again. “I hadn’t noticed. Come on.”

 

He marched off towards where Martin’s van was parked, not waiting to see whether the captain was behind him.

 

Fortunately Martin had been, and he conceded to follow Douglas’ instructions and drive them to a local pub that Douglas vaguely remembered from his drinking days. They were silent on the drive over, thoughts clearly whirling through both their brains, and it wasn’t until they’d reached the bar itself that Douglas spoke again.

 

“What can I get you?” His voice was stilted.

 

“Orange juice,” Martin said. “I’ll… just find us a table.”

 

“Fine,” Douglas agreed, and turned to place their order.

 

By the time he’d received their two juices from the landlady, Martin was sitting in the far corner, his back to the bar. Douglas approached, taking in the hunched posture, Martin’s hand fisted distressedly in his hair.

 

He set the juice down, and quietly took a seat. “Here you are.”

 

“Thanks,” Martin murmured, though he didn’t look at him.

 

“Martin,” Douglas said, relieved when his name made Martin glance up at last. “I’m not going to force you to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

 

Martin just stared at him, and after a pause Douglas went on. “There’s the synthetic alternative if we want.”

 

“The one that doesn’t work as effectively.” Martin’s voice was soft. There was something burning oddly in the back of his eyes, something that Douglas couldn’t decipher.

 

Douglas’ stomach felt as if a giant fist was holding it tight. He idly wondered if he was going to vomit again, but this was a deeper feeling than nausea.

 

Martin seemed to read his mind. “You haven’t been sick in the last two hours.”

 

“I haven’t,” Douglas acknowledged.

 

“Do you think it might be…?” Martin didn’t seem able to finish the question.

 

“Because you’re here?” Douglas contemplated. He certainly felt better than he had done that morning, his horrid queasiness gone along with the weakness that came with it. Even his headache seemed less needling. He sighed. “Yes. I think so.”

 

Martin regarded him in silence for a few seconds. “In that case…” He took a deep breath. “I’ll do whatever you want.” He glanced downwards, staring intently at Douglas’ stomach for the first time. Some irrational, protective instinct moved Douglas’ hand to cover his belly possessively, and Martin looked up again. “For the baby,” Martin said, and his voice didn’t – quite - break on the word.

 

“The baby.” Douglas swirled his drink round the glass with his free hand. “Do you want me to move to Wales?” he asked, not quite sure what to offer. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.” Horrible shame rippled through him and he stared into his orange juice rather than look at Martin. “I mean – any more than I already have.”

 

“You’re not an inconvenience.” Douglas suddenly felt the warm pressure of a palm on his, but it was a fleeting touch. He looked up as Martin drew his hand away. “I’ll… come back to Fitton.”

 

It looked as if the words were costing Martin his very soul, and Douglas shuddered inwardly. “You’d do that?”

 

“Anything to keep y- the baby safe.”

 

“Thank you.” Douglas wanted desperately to take Martin’s hand, but the expression on the captain’s face stopped him again. “You can move in whenever you like. I’ve got a spare room you can make your own.”

 

“Thanks.” Martin didn’t seem to know where to look. He drained his glass, and Douglas echoed his action. “I’ll pack everything up in Anglesey. It was… only a short-term let. I can get out of it.”

 

“Send me the bill.”

 

“No,” Martin said, shortly. He stood up. “I need to go. There’s lots to… organise.”

 

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course.” Douglas wondered if this hideous guilt inside him was going to last forever. “I’m coming.” He numbly followed Martin out to his van and got in.

 

How could one afternoon – no, one _hour_ – change everything so completely? Douglas clutched his hands together as Martin drove them away, and part of him wondered whether or not he was dreaming.


	15. O

The morning of Martin's arrival at Douglas' house dawned overcast and thundery. The air felt muggy and humid, the previous day's mini-heatwave resulting in angry-looking black clouds massing in heaped banks, a gusty wind driving them across the sky. Douglas stood at the kitchen sink and stared at them after he'd finished the washing up, hoping that the coming storm wasn't the universe presenting him with a metaphor.

 

He'd spent the three days since Martin's departure rather frantically rearranging his house. Once Helena had left, the spare room had become something of a dumping ground for rarely-used items, as well as an impromptu laundry and ironing room. Contrary to the Omega stereotype, Douglas had never been the least interested in homemaking; about the only domestic task he permitted himself to take pleasure in was cooking, and as a younger man he'd only made his peace with that passion by reassuring himself that there was a significant minority of professional chefs who were Alphas, after all. He was merely emulating their creative flair and instinct for control in the kitchen; not simply being a good little Omega doing what was expected of him.

 

Accordingly, this morning he'd spent two hours putting together a rather tricky little recipe that he'd got from the cookbook of a Michelin-starred chef - a game pie that he hoped would serve as a pleasant welcome for Martin to his home. He couldn't predict what kind of mood Martin would be in when he arrived - their last meeting had been sufficiently civil for Douglas not to worry that Martin would be actively angry, but he was unsure whether the formality with which Martin now seemed to be treating him stemmed from concealed and simmering resentment, or merely embarrassment and guilt about the predicament that Douglas' unscheduled heat had got them into. Either way, cooking always had a soothing effect on Douglas' nerves, and so the pie served a dual purpose.

 

Unfortunately, it was ready now, though; there was nothing further that Douglas could do to it. He'd even made a fiddly decoration for the lattice pattern on the top, spending twenty minutes carving a stag out of leftover pastry. He wondered whether he should make a dessert too; he had all the ingredients for chocolate brownies.... But the smell of chocolate had been making him gag, lately, and even for the sake of calming his twitchy anxiety, he didn't think he was up to it. His sickness had settled for a full day after he'd spent those four hours with Martin before the nausea had returned full force, and that fact more than anything else resigned him to the necessity of Martin sharing his home.

 

He wandered into the lounge, absently rubbing his belly. It was too soon to feel anything of the tiny life they'd made, beyond the side effects of his pregnancy, but he'd noticed his trousers feeling just a little tighter in the last day or two. He hummed a snatch of an aria from Don Giovanni to himself, trying to keep his breathing slow and even, and just as he was about to sit down, he heard the _scrunch_ of tyres on gravel outside. His heart beat faster, and he walked to open the front door.

 

"Hello, Martin." The Alpha climbed down from the van, and smiled. The smile didn't quite touch his eyes, but Douglas welcomed it all the same. "Good journey?"

 

"Not bad, thanks." Martin grabbed a bag from his passenger seat, then slammed the door. "How are you?" His voice was slightly anxious.

 

"Oh, fine." Douglas tried to bat the question away. "Travelling light?" he enquired, jokingly gesturing at the small hold-all Martin carried.

 

Martin didn't laugh, but his smile became a touch more genuine. "The rest's in the back."

 

"I'll stick the kettle on before you unload, if you like."

 

"Sounds great." Martin followed Douglas into the hallway, the two of them dancing rather awkwardly around one another as Douglas tried to shut the door. Martin shuffled his bag from shoulder to floor, then stood with his hands in his pockets in an uncomfortable posture: elbows sticking out and weight unnaturally resting through one leg in a transparent attempt at casualness. He looked like a ginger flamingo, Douglas thought, but the picture didn't amuse him.

 

"Tour first, or tea?"

 

"Whatever you like."

 

"I'll show you round while the kettle boils, then."

 

* * *

 

 

Showing Martin over the house didn't take long, and they settled to drink their tea in rather uneasy silence. Martin posed the odd desultory question ('Heard from Carolyn?' 'D'you mind if I keep my van on the drive?') but it wasn't until Martin asked whether Douglas had spoken to Arthur that conversation truly began to flow.

 

"He tracked me down, you know." Martin traced the pattern on his mug with a finger. "He came all the way to Anglesey to see me."

 

"He said." Douglas had already revealed to Martin the steward's chats with him via email. "Have you... told him anything?"

 

Martin shook his head. "Have you?"

 

"No." Douglas hesitated, then sighed. "I emailed him again yesterday - he keeps threatening to come over, but I've fobbed him off. Told him I've got the flu."

 

"Oh. Right."

 

Not for the first time, Douglas wished he could see through Martin's inscrutability. "Quite apart from the fact that you're supposed to wait until after 12 weeks have passed to start revealing a pregnancy, Carolyn clearly doesn't mean him to know about...." He gestured awkwardly between them. "What we are. Why we left."

 

Martin echoed Douglas' sigh. He pushed the mug away. "That's what I thought, too. When he found me, he kept asking. 'Why did you go, Skip? Come back. Was it something I did?'" Martin's impersonation of Arthur was uncanny. "He kept begging to know if it was his fault."

 

Douglas' heart clenched. "I told him it wasn't, more than once."

 

"So did I." Martin folded his hands in his lap. "But I don't think he really believed me."

 

"Perhaps we could take him out for coffee. Convince him."

 

Martin frowned. "And how do you propose to explain that I'm staying with you?"

 

"He doesn't have to find that out."

 

"But he'll ask where I'm living."

 

"So tell him you're back in the attic."

 

"And when he turns up unannounced to try and visit me at the student house?" Frustration had edged into Martin's tones. "I'm not going to lie to him anymore."

 

"Because just ignoring him is a much better solution, naturally." Protectiveness of Arthur made Douglas defensive.

 

"You're supposed to be the one with all the genius plans," Martin snapped. "You come up with something."

 

Douglas opened his mouth, then shut it again. He pondered. "We could tell Carolyn?" he suggested - not entirely sure how he felt about that course of action himself.

 

Martin looked taken aback. "I thought you said you hadn't heard from her. I certainly haven't."

 

"No, but I've charitably put the radio silence down to the pressures of running a small charter airline and the guilt occasioned by sacking her two best pilots out of the blue -"

 

"Her only pilots -" Martin interjected, but Douglas carried on.

 

"Either way... Well, I've known her longer than you, and much as a few weeks ago I was tempted to rip her head off in fury at what she was suggesting as a solution, I don't think her actions stemmed from not... caring about either us."

 

Martin snorted. "Carolyn? _Caring_?"

 

Douglas shrugged. "I think she does. Even if she acts like a sabre-toothed tiger to cover it up. She's only polite to people she hates, remember?" Martin remained silent. "How do you see it, then?"

 

Martin appeared to mull the question, then flopped his shoulders loosely. "Oh, I don't know." His voice was the weariest Douglas had ever heard it. "All I know is - it was the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me. And I've spent the intervening time trying to forget that it did."

 

A wave of sadness washed unexpectedly over Douglas, and without thinking, he reached for Martin's hand, clasping it gently. "I'm sorry. It's all -"

 

Martin looked up sharply, interrupting. "If you use the words 'my fault' again, I will - well, not punch you, because you're -" He swallowed, and changed tack without saying the word _pregnant_. "But I'll feel like doing it, all the same." He pulled his hand out of Douglas' and stood up. "I'd better get my things in from the van before that thunderstorm breaks."

 

Rejection jabbed at Douglas' brain, but he tried not to let it show. "Of course," he said as lightly as he could. "I'll help you."

 

"I can manage." Martin gave a wonky grin. "I'm a professional, after all. These days." There was a faint bitterness under the words that made Douglas wince to hear it.

 

"Ok, then," he said slowly.

 

Martin turned to leave, but paused, his hand on the door. Not looking at Douglas, he spoke. "I know you think you're making it better, taking the - the blame." The words came in a flurry. "But you aren't. Please don't. Just... _don't_."

 

Before Douglas could do anything more than open his mouth in shock, Martin was gone.

 

For the next half hour, Douglas could hear the sounds of Martin hefting things in from the van. At last, just as the first ominous rumble grumbled from the sky, he heard his front door slam, and he took his courage in his hands and wandered out to the hall to discover that Martin had already taken most of his things upstairs.

 

Douglas wanted to lend a hand. Since losing his job, though he was loath to admit it even to himself, he'd felt utterly useless. Flying may not have held the same fascination for him as it did for Martin, but it was glamorous (or at least appeared so to outsiders), it conferred respectability and responsibility upon him, and it was purposeful. Now, when all he had to do was mope round the house, he felt like he was just dangling; like a drop of rain about to fall from a leaf without knowing exactly when gravity would take over and cause him to plummet. Hence the frantic tidying, hence the game pie, hence his decision now - he'd help Martin move the last of his things upstairs.

 

With a satisfied nod, he bent to pick up a sizeable box, the nearest to his foot. He was rather surprised at the weight - the carton hadn't looked like much, but it was heavy. Pride made him carry on. Putting down the box would mean admitting defeat, and what if Martin saw him? Humiliating failure wasn't usually his style. Cautiously, he negotiated the stairs, reaching the top without mishap. He could hear the muffled sounds of Martin moving about in his new room; seeing that the door was open, he was just about to go in, when -

 

"What on _earth_ do you think you're doing?"

 

Martin's loud exclamation from the bedroom doorway made Douglas jump, and the cardboard slipped from his grasp, tumbling to the ground. They both dived to catch it, but only succeeded in smacking their heads together. The box split and books spilled out, sliding all over the landing. Douglas reeled back dazedly, rubbing his bruised temple. "Sorry," he gasped. "When the doctor suggested physical contact, I don't think that was what he had in mind, do you?" The joke fell flat and he suddenly realised that Martin was glaring furiously at him. "What?" he asked, as worry flooded his chest. "There was nothing breakable in there, was there?"

 

"You're pregnant." Martin's voice was low and furious.

 

"I know. And?" Douglas knelt down to try and start scooping up the books, but was stopped as Martin's hand flew out to grab him.

 

"You're _pregnant_. You shouldn't be carrying things."

 

Douglas blinked. "Oh, come on." His eyes suddenly fell on the book nearest to Martin, glimpsing the title. _An Alpha Guide to Omega Pregnancy_.

 

Martin hissed crossly. "You're being irresponsible. You need to look after yourself."

 

Douglas' hackles rose. "You learnt that from your _manual_ , I assume?" He shoved Martin's hand brusquely from his arm.

 

"What?" Martin followed Douglas' gaze, then blushed and made a grab for the book. "That's none of your business."

 

"No, carry on." Douglas' voice dripped with sarcasm. "Mel read one of those while I was expecting Emily. All about how a good Alpha dominates, how I'm meant to abdicate all my responsibilities to you, just concentrate on being a perfect breeding machine -"

 

Martin looked horrified. "It doesn't say anything like that!"

 

"Then don't tell me what to do." Douglas was breathing heavily, his fists curled by his sides. He felt horribly sick - again.

 

"I'm just trying to protect _our baby_!"

 

"That's my job!"

 

Martin's eyes flashed. "She's mine too!"

 

"She's inside me, not -" Douglas suddenly registered what Martin had said. He blinked, amazed. "Hang on - _she_?"

 

All the fight seemed to leave Martin in a rush. He rubbed awkwardly at his neck and toed the carpet. "Or he."

 

Something oddly warm seemed to expand inside Douglas' heart, his rage evaporating. "You said _she_."

 

Martin's blush was now clashing horribly with his hair. "Yes, well. I know we... don't know. But... I can't bear to say 'it'."

 

Faint understanding blossomed in Douglas' brain. "You love her. Already."He stepped a bit closer. 

 

"That's ridiculous," Martin said, weakly. "She - I mean.... You're not even showing, yet."

 

Douglas contemplated for a second, then realised his hand was once again on his belly, where it seemed to rest increasingly habitually, these days. "Here." He reached out and felt Martin startle as he took the Alpha's fingers. "We can call her 'she' for now, if you like." He drew Martin's hand closer, and with a deep breath, touched the captain's palm to his stomach, letting Martin feel. Fear flickered in him for a moment, distrust threatening to rear its head, but the awe-struck expression on Martin's face made Douglas' action worth it.

 

Martin held his hand there gently for a few seconds, and his lined forehead softened. He looked Douglas in the eye, then - clearly reluctantly - stepped back. "Thank you," he said, quietly.

 

"That's alright." Douglas hadn't meant to sound as gruff as he did.

 

Martin shuffled his feet. "I can bring the rest of the stuff up myself."

 

"So I'd gathered," Douglas said, drily.

 

"Yes, well." Martin shrugged, embarrassment showing again. "There isn't much."

 

"I'll leave you to your unpacking." Douglas headed back to the stairs. "I've made us dinner, by the way."

 

"You didn't have to do that. I can cook, you know."

 

"You've driven miles, you must be tired." Douglas felt suddenly exhausted himself. "Let me know when you'd like it, and I'll put it on."

 

"I can do that - you should rest -"

 

"Martin." Douglas' voice was dangerous once more. "I'm not an invalid."

 

"Oh. I know. I mean -"

 

"Never mind." Douglas tried to smile, beating back the renewed annoyance. "Just tell me when you're ready for food."

 

"Will do." Martin nodded, then - after an awkward hesitation - disappeared back into his room.

 

Douglas took a deep breath in, then sighed. It was going to be a long eight months.


	16. Π

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous art for this chapter is a brilliant piece by madnina/skipthatsbrilliant. Thank you!

_Week 7:_

 

 _"...your baby is a mere 1/2 inch long and still curved as tightly as a comma..."_  

 

* * *

 

“Want me to cook tonight?” Martin poked his head into the lounge.

 

Douglas gritted his teeth. “No, thank you. You've done us food every night since you moved in last week. It's my turn, honestly.”

 

“Oh. I don't mind, you know.”

 

Douglas took a deep breath and counted to five before replying. “That's very kind of you. But you've been out all day, working hard, and I - haven't.”

 

“Yes, but –“

 

“No. I'm doing it.” Douglas slammed his book shut, more loudly than he'd intended. He regretted it when he saw Martin flinch.

 

“Right you are.” Martin disappeared before Douglas could apologise, and Douglas sighed. He was sleeping horribly badly, and his headache – though lessened – was still there, making him tense and snappish. With a grumble, he took himself off to the kitchen, cursing the world.

 

Pasta. He'd make pasta. That was easy. He clattered the pans together by mistake, and winced as the noise made his head hurt.

 

“Still in pain?”

 

Douglas wheeled round in surprise. “I didn't hear you come in."

 

Martin was hesitating in the doorway. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." He half-shrugged. “Need any help?”

 

“I thought I'd do us some lasagne.”

 

“Sounds good.” Martin hovered. “Want me to chop anything?”

  
  
_Your head off_ , the sarcastic part of Douglas thought entirely unfairly, but he didn't say it. “I'm fine.”

 

“Right.” Martin still didn't leave. “Would it help if I… you know.” He flushed. “Sat here?”

 

Douglas groaned inwardly. The truth was that it probably would; his headaches always improved when he and Martin were in the same room. But Martin's twitchy lack of ease in Douglas’ home also made Douglas nervous, and all he wanted right now was to relax into his cooking.

 

Before he could formulate that thought into a coherent sentence, Martin had sunk into a chair.

 

_Too late_. Douglas bit his tongue. “Thanks,” he said instead, and reached for the onions.

 

* * *

 

  _Week 8:_

  
_"...his central nervous system and major organs will be nearly complete. His heart has four chambers, and by now his heart rate is probably a good, strong 160 beats per minute..."_

 

* * *

  

“Martin?”

 

“Yeah?” Martin scrambled off his bed as Douglas appeared in his doorway. He looked almost guilty to have been caught relaxing, which was ridiculous given how hard he'd been working, Douglas thought; once Martin's lack of flying time had improved his reliability, his bookings seemed to have properly – well, taken off. Now  _both_ of them looked exhausted; Martin from working late, and Douglas from how badly he was sleeping.

 

“Why has £400 suddenly appeared in my bank account?” Douglas returned his brain to the purpose of his venturing in to Martin’s room at all.

 

“Is that not enough?” Martin bit his lip. “I know it's not market rates – I can find some more, just not this week, I don't think-“

 

“You're trying to pay me  _rent_?” Douglas’ voice was higher than he'd meant it to be.

 

Martin seemed baffled. “Of course I am.”

 

“Have I asked you for rent?”

 

“Well, no, but –“

 

“But nothing. I'm returning it to you.” Douglas turned to leave, but this time he was the one stopped by an outburst of fury from his new housemate.

 

“I'm not sponging off you! Don't you dare give it back, Douglas.”

 

“I don't need your money.” Douglas balled his fists, irritability beating back patience. “You're not to pay me a penny.”

 

“Lucky Douglas, not needing cash.” Martin's voice was the closest to a sneer that Douglas had ever heard it.

 

“Don't be stupid, it's not that –“

 

“Stupid, of course I am. Stupid Martin, getting his knickers all in a twist about something as silly as money –“

 

“That's not what I meant!” Douglas tried desperately to backpedal, suddenly conscious – too late – of how serious a topic finances would be to his former colleague. “I just – I don't –“

 

“ _What_?” Martin was in front of him now, hands on hips.

 

Luckily a brainwave struck just in time; the Richardson luck and ingenuity of old shining through. Douglas raised his hands, pacifyingly, and chose his words with more care. “Can we sit down and talk about this?”

 

Martin glared at him suspiciously, but nodded. They sat next to each other on the bed, and Douglas carried on. “I really wasn't expecting you to pay me anything for your – stay.” He rushed on before Martin could interrupt, as he so clearly wished to do. “But I can understand that living here rent-free mightn't feel… acceptable to you, either.” Douglas’ breath caught at the sudden horrid notion that perhaps it was his status as an Omega that was prompting Martin’s intense rage; the idea of being an Alpha living off an Omega feeling too emasculating, perhaps?

  
  
_But if he thinks that, then he might think that he gets the baby, gets all the rights, just like a traditional Alpha, like Linda, like Mel – no. Surely not._ Douglas swallowed hard. Martin had never been a stereotypical Alpha, after all. Surely this contretemps simply stemmed from Martin’s characteristic stubbornness and pride.

 

Something of his mental turmoil must have flashed across his face, since Martin asked “Douglas? Are you alright?” He sounded tentative, less furious, and Douglas inhaled a lungful of calming air and nodded.

 

“I'm fine. It's nothing.” He pressed on. “Like I was saying, I understand if you want to… contribute. More than just your presence, I mean.” He looked up, an unexpected softness billowing through his chest, a feeling akin to a sail filled by a warm breeze. For some reason it abruptly occurred to him that the last time he and Martin had sat on a bed together it had been because they couldn't keep their hands off each other. His ears burned at the thought, but he shoved the idea away. Martin had made it very clear that he didn't want to go down that road, after all.

 

“My presence is a given. Free. It's not… payment.” Martin seemed firm, but there was no anger in his tone anymore. 

 

Douglas nodded. "Well, thank you." He barely stopped himself from reaching for Martin's knee. "How about... you pay money instead into a new bank account, that we open together. For - for  _her."_  

 

"Oh." Martin looked surprised, but as Douglas watched him closely, acceptance seemed to steal across his features. "So - it would be -"

 

"Kept in trust, for when she's older. For university, perhaps."

 

"Or flight school." An unexpected grin broke out on Martin's face.

 

Douglas snorted with laughter, and he shoved gently at Martin's shoulder. "She mightn't have your one-track mind, you know," he pointed out, but it was a tease, not a jibe.

 

Martin smiled, and Douglas felt unexpected happiness steal through him at the sight. "She might take after you. What a thought."

 

"She couldn't do better." Douglas was kidding, but then an idea occurred. "She'll be some of both of us." It was strange, but the idea had never seemed so concrete before.

 

"Hmm. The best bits, I hope." Martin's hand twitched towards Douglas almost unthinkingly and Douglas leant into his side just a little.

 

"She could have your ambition - and my devilish charm and sense of humour."

 

Martin chuckled. "Or we end up with the worst characteristics of the two of us."

 

"I have no 'worst characteristics'," Douglas protested, loftily, then smirked at Martin's look of derision before continuing. "You mean like your pride and stubbornness combined with my... risk-taking, for example?" The FO winced comically. "Good job I'm already grey." He tugged at his hair. 

 

"I'm not, though," Martin said, absently. His face became troubled, and Douglas noticed.

 

"Hey," he asked. "What's the matter?"

 

"An unholy union of genes," Martin quoted, after a pause. 

 

"Did I really say that?" Douglas cursed the mental fog that clouded his heat-memories.

 

Martin nodded. "You did."

 

"Before this, though." Douglas couldn't bear to see Martin looking so unhappy. "She'll be perfect." He reached to cover Martin's hand with his own. "Perfect," he emphasised, firmly. 

 

"If you say so." Martin mused for a moment, then looked slightly happier. "Can we open that bank account, then?" 

 

"Next week. We've got our appointment in town with Elise, anyway." 

 

Martin yawned widely, and Douglas stood up, fearing he was intruding. "Sounds good." Martin stretched and Douglas echoed his yawn, tiredness making his limbs heavy. "Is £400 a month enough?"

 

Douglas turned to shoot a mild glare at Martin. "You can decide the amount." He gulped and hesitated, but found the courage to carry on. "It's for  _your_  daughter, after all." He wasn't sure if Martin knew how much the pronoun meant to him.

 

But Martin seemed to, judging by the sudden softness in his eyes. " _Our_  daughter," he said, tentatively.

 

Emotion made Douglas brusque. "Yes. Well," he said, buffeted by the maelstrom of feeling inside him. "Better go," he muttered, and left the room all in a rush, the picture of Martin's slightly hurt face at his renewed terseness remaining before his eyes like the after-effect of looking at the sun.

 

* * *

 

_Week 9:_

  

_"...though you can't feel them yet, your baby is actually starting to make small movements. The baby's nerves and muscles are starting to be in good working order, and she can now bend her arms..."_

 

* * *

 

"Your blood pressure is certainly much better, Douglas." Elise smiled as she slipped the cuff from his arm. "How are the headaches?"

 

"All gone," Douglas lied.

 

Next to him, Martin gave a murmur of dissent. "You had one this morning," he interjected.

 

"I did not!" Douglas glared at him.

 

"I  _know_ he did," Martin spoke to Elise directly, to Douglas' intense annoyance. "He snapped at me when I offered to make the coffee and he kept rubbing his forehead."

 

"Who's 'he', the cat's father?" Douglas asked, crossly. 

 

Before Martin could reply, Elise got there first. "Is what Martin has observed accurate?" she asked, staring hard at Douglas. 

 

Douglas blustered for a moment, before giving in. "Alright, fine, I'm still getting the odd headache, but it's only because I'm so tired all the time - nothing's wrong!"

 

Elise nodded. "You're bound to feel exhausted. Being pregnant would take it out of anyone, and at your age -"

 

"I know," Douglas barked, his patience worn graphene-thin. "Geriatric Omega."

 

"You should try to rest as much as possible." Elise seemed unperturbed by his rudeness.

 

"That's what I keep  _telling_ you!" Martin flapped his hands in agitation in Douglas' direction.

 

"I'm not incapable. And we aren't discussing this here." Douglas glared impassively at Martin.

 

Martin folded his arms, clearly angry, but Elise cleared her throat. "Other than the headaches, any problems?"

 

Douglas shook his head. "I'm fine."

 

"Very good." Elise made a note on her computer. "I'm happy for you to see me again after your first scan at 12 weeks, then."

 

"But he doesn't feel well!" Martin sounded horribly worried despite his ire. "Can't we do anything in the meantime to help him feel better?"

 

Douglas was taken aback. Perhaps Martin actually was concerned for him; perhaps he wasn't just trying to nitpick about Douglas fibbing to the midwife. 

 

Elise nodded. "As I said, rest, a little light exercise each day, and - well, I know this might be contentious -" she raised an eyebrow- "but we find Alpha-Omega proximity really does help, in these circumstances."

 

Douglas knew Martin was looking at him, but he couldn't look back. He didn't  _know_  anymore; didn't know whether he wanted to be close to Martin, or to push him away.

 

"If you have any concerns, do get in touch, of course." Elise stood, ready to usher them out.

 

"Thanks," Douglas muttered, and they left, Douglas striding ahead so Martin had to jog to keep up.

 

"Wait for me!" 

 

Douglas paused, grumpily waiting for Martin to fall into step beside him.

 

"What's wrong?" Martin panted, seeing Douglas' thunderous expression. "Don't you feel well?"

 

"I keep telling you I'm  _fine_ \- or I would be if you didn't keep speaking for me in our appointments," Douglas glowered.

 

Martin's temper flared. "I wouldn't have to if you didn't always insist on putting on your sky god everything's-fine act."

 

"Hmph." Douglas sulkily marched towards the car park. By the time they got back to his Lexus, he had begun to regret his flash of rage, just a little, and he decided to make an attempt at friendliness. "Want to get a drink somewhere?"

 

"Can't." Martin still sounded crotchety. "I've got a job at 3."

 

Martin's busy schedule just brought all Douglas' sense of being useless rushing back. "Oh,  _fine,"_  he retorted, and then spent the rest of the journey home feeling guilty again about the wounded expression that had instantly dashed across the Alpha's face.

 

* * *

 

_Week 10:_

  

_"...his ankles and wrists have formed, and his fingers and toes are now visible too..."_

 

* * *

 

"That's the twelfth time you've yawned today, Douglas."

 

"Keeping count, are we?" Douglas frowned irritation across the breakfast table. 

 

Martin sighed. "Will you stop snapping at me?"

 

"Sorry." Douglas gave in, and shook his head. "I'm so tired; don't know why I'm not sleeping well." He sighed heavily. "I don't mean to keep biting your head off."

 

"Are you sure that's... all it is?" Martin was doing a good job of masking his concern, but Douglas could sense it, rippling below the surface of Martin's carefully casual facade.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Martin shifted uneasily. "Is this working? Me, living here?" 

 

"You want to move out?" Sudden panic gripped Douglas' heart.

  

"No!" Martin saw the fear leap into Douglas' eyes and grabbed for his hand. "Don't look like that."

 

Douglas tried to calm his breathing. "What, then?"

 

Martin looked pensive. "I just... I worry I'm causing you more stress by being here. You're so tired always, and so am I, from working, and we keep bickering, and... I wondered if it was simply too hard for you. Having someone you just used to work with sharing your space."

 

"It's not - hang about... You're not just an ex-colleague, to me..." Douglas said, slowly, realising what Martin had said. "You - we're friends. Aren't we?" 

 

Martin's shoulders seemed to relax a little. "I'm your friend?" he asked.

 

"Of course you are, you silly sod." Douglas felt suddenly nervous. "Why?"

 

"No, no, it's just - of course we're friends." Martin sounded blindsided, and Douglas was very conscious that they were still holding hands.

 

"You clot," he said, softly. "Didn't you know?"

 

"Course I did." Martin looked both happier and ten times more sheepish than a few moments before, though.

 

Douglas grinned, and changed the subject. "Busy morning ahead?"

 

Martin suddenly appeared to realise that he still had Douglas' palm enfolded in his, and hastily leant back. Douglas tried to ignore the odd pang of regret he felt as Martin's fingers slipped away.  His hormones really must be being strange. 

 

"Three jobs," Martin replied. "I'll be home around five, I expect."

 

"Have a good day." Douglas stood to begin clearing the table.

 

"I'll do the dishes," Martin insisted, reaching to retrieve his bowl from Douglas' hand.

 

Douglas opened his mouth to retort in the negative, but then shut it again. He did feel exhausted - and Martin was only trying to help... With a heavy nod, he let go of the crockery. "I'll just go and... lie on the sofa, then."

 

Martin looked ludicrously overjoyed. "Good idea," he said, nodding hard.

 

Douglas laughed. "I know when I'm beaten," he commented, wryly. "See you later." 

 

And he sloped off to the lounge to sink gratefully into his favourite armchair.

 

* * *

 

_Week 11:_

 

_"...Your baby is starting to have sleeping and waking cycles, usually between 5 and 10 minutes long. You might even wake her if you cough..."_

 

* * *

 

Falling asleep on the sofa became a daily habit of Douglas' over the following week. He still couldn't rest well at night; perhaps it was the absence of Martin once he'd spent each evening with him, but he always felt twitchy and agitated, constantly waking as if to check he was safe. He'd tried warm baths, lavender scent, drinks of soothing cocoa; but nothing worked. Increasingly he found himself dropping off in the lounge with Martin across from him, reading what looked suspiciously like aviation magazines concealed in bits of the newspaper.

 

One day, after a particularly poor night, he woke with a start, realising that the whole afternoon had worn away while he dozed. He felt unusually well-rested, and gazed wonderingly at the ceiling for a moment, puzzling at the warm, drowsy contentment still radiating through his limbs. 

 

The sensation when he turned his head sideways to find Martin on the floor, leaning against the sofa, was one of utter shock. "Martin?!"

 

Martin jerked in surprise, almost overbalancing. "You're awake?"

 

"Indeed." Douglas rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing on the ground?"

 

Martin looked shifty. "Nothing," he protested, in a transparent fib. Douglas stared at him until he capitulated. "Oh, fine." Martin groaned, and tipped his head back so that it rested against Douglas' hip. "You sleep better when I'm nearer you, alright?"

 

"I... What?" Douglas was baffled. "How do you know that?"

 

Martin went scarlet. "Because whenever I've caught you napping, I sit here. OK?" He examined his hands, clearly embarrassed. "And after about five minutes of me being next to you, you stop twisting around and settle down and - and I've always heard you when you were about to wake up before and managed to move away, but I didn't today, and I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, I didn't mean to, and I won't do it again if you don't want, and -"

 

"Martin."

 

Douglas' interruption halted Martin's babbling. "What?" he asked, voice small, still blushing.

 

"That's very kind of you."

 

"It's fine." Martin seemed startled that Douglas wasn't shouting at him.

 

"You must be uncomfortable down there." Douglas knew his living room carpet had seen better days. He shuffled over, inhaling deeply. This close, he could smell Martin, and - though he almost didn't dare to admit it to himself - the Alpha smelt  _incredible_ , like a fragrance designed to appeal to Douglas alone. "Come up here."

 

"No, no, I'll go, I - hey!" Martin's indignant squawk was in vain as Douglas tugged inexorably on his arm, drawing him up to sit in the gap left by the crescent curve of Douglas' body.

 

"There. That'll be less scratchy, at least."

 

"Hmm." Martin's posture was as stiff as a board, but as he glanced down, something apparently caught his attention. "Douglas?"

 

"Mmm?" Douglas hadn't felt so languidly relaxed for a long time, and his eyes were already drifting shut again - but a light touch of Martin's palm to his stomach made his eyelids fly open.

 

Martin's hand now hovered just above Douglas' belt, and Douglas's mouth went suddenly dry, a flash of memory occurring to him - that was the belt Martin had yanked off him in Inverness - or had he pulled it open himself? It didn't matter. What had happened after was what had mattered -

 

"Are you - are you starting to show?"

 

Martin's hesitating question jerked Douglas back to the present. He looked downwards. "Oh. A little, I think." Without thinking, he tugged his shirt upwards, revealing his slightly fuller belly. "Not sure."

 

"You are." There was something Douglas couldn't define in Martin's voice, and he glanced up, trying to see what Martin was thinking. The Alpha was gazing down, his expression nothing like any Douglas had seen before. "Douglas. Can I- ?" 

 

Martin met Douglas' eyes, pleading now, and Douglas couldn't do anything except nod. Martin's hands descended, warm on his bare skin, and the gentle caress to Douglas' tummy sent fire roaring through his veins.

 

 

"Hello, little one." Martin was just whispering, but they were so near each other Douglas could hear every word. "Are you... OK in there?" Martin almost looked as if he expected an answer.

 

_Of course._ It was the baby. That was the source of the hunger in Martin's expression; that was the reason for the adoration. Douglas did his best to put aside the sudden wave of - surely it couldn't be disappointment, that was ridiculous - and instead just smiled. "She's completely fine," he said, and rested his hand over Martin's, feeling the light rise and fall of his own breathing. "She's brilliant."

 

Douglas didn't know how long the two of them sat there; lethargy stole over him, and he gradually drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the rapture in Martin's eyes as he watched Douglas' belly. When he woke at last, Martin was clattering softly in the kitchen, and the warmth had gone.


	17. P

* * *

  

_Week 12:_

_“… all of the major organ systems have finished forming by the end of your 1st trimester, so now they only need to grow. Your baby has opposable thumbs too, and his motions are more purposeful…”_

 

* * *

 

“Who do you think we should tell, then?” Martin pondered as he nursed his coffee, his slim fingers wrapped round the polystyrene cup. They were sitting in the hospital café, having arrived early for Douglas’ first scan.

 

Douglas mused. “I don’t think I have many people to reveal the news to,” he said, shrugging. “My brother, perhaps, though he’s in Australia, so it’s not like he’ll be popping round to visit every week.” He sipped from his own drink, and grimaced. The lukewarm liquid bore a closer resemblance to dishwater than to tea. “What about you? What have you told your family?”

 

Martin made a face. “I told them I’d got a new housemate. I haven’t said why.”

 

Douglas’ stomach twisted, but he was careful not to let anything show in his expression. “I see,” he said, as lightly as he could.

 

“I will explain, of course I will.” Martin rushed on. “My Mum will be delighted, I expect… she’s always hinting about having another grandchild, and she’s brilliant with Caitlin’s kids.” A warm smile crossed his face. “She’ll be over the moon.”

 

Douglas felt a little better. “That’s great.” He took a deep breath and broached the question he’d been mulling for a while. “What about… MJN?”

 

Martin’s smile vanished as fast as it had appeared. “Arthur’s still messaging you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Martin sighed. “Me, too.” He pushed his coffee aside. “I’m running out of excuses to give him. He knows I’m back in Fitton – he went to try and find me in Wales, the – the clot.”

 

“Yes, I know.” Douglas’ heart was troubled. “Fitton’s not a big place. We’ll run into him – or Carolyn – sooner or later.”

 

“I’m not ashamed. Of this.” Martin met Douglas’ eyes, the clear blue looking steadily into the brown.

 

“Me neither.” Douglas held Martin’s gaze.

 

“Then we should… tell them?” There was just a hint of a question in the statement.

 

Douglas exhaled through his nose, considering, before nodding decisively. “We tell them.”

 

“Oh good.” Martin looked relieved. “I’m no good at pretending. And I don’t want to lie to Arthur.”

 

“Me neither.” Douglas felt a little happier. He checked his watch. “It’s nearly noon. We should go.”

 

“Coming.” Martin drained his cup and set it down. “I can’t believe we…” He tailed off, but there was a gleam in his eyes.

 

“What?” Douglas was intrigued. “Don’t leave it there.”

 

Martin seemed a bit sheepish. “Just thinking – I can’t believe we get to see her at last.”

 

“Or him, remember.” Douglas grinned.

 

“Oh, I know.” Martin beamed back at him. “Either would be great, of course.”

 

“Come on.” Douglas stood, and held out a hand to pull Martin up after him. “Let’s go and say hello.”

 

They followed the signs to the pre-natal clinic, and there was a definite spring in each of their steps.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think she’ll look like?” Martin was almost whispering, the waiting room quiet and still around them.

 

Douglas recalled the first time he’d seen both Emily and Verity, and sentiment warred with realism. “Like a misshapen potato, probably.”

 

“Douglas!” Martin swatted at him, causing a few turned heads.

 

Douglas chuckled under his breath, and fended Martin off. “Alright, alright. Like a very _adorable_ … potato.”

 

Martin shook his head, but he was grinning. “It’s alright for you. You’ve done this before.”

 

“Not like this.”

 

Martin frowned, suddenly, but Douglas didn’t have time to reassure him before a door opened and a male voice called “Douglas Richardson?”

 

They both got up and went through, Douglas feeling the momentary pressure of Martin’s hand above his waistband as they stepped into the dimly lit room. Shocking warmth shot up his spine at the touch, but he ignored it as he reached to shake the technician’s hand.

 

“Hello, Mr Richardson.” The voice had a lilt to it that it took Douglas a moment to place, distracted by the sloe-eyed beauty of the man who stood before them, lab-coated and buttoned-up though he was. “Is this your partner?”

 

“C-Captain Crieff,” Martin stammered, and Douglas blinked in surprise. Martin didn’t usually turn into a stuttering fool these days, unless in front of women – or men he was attracted to. A spike of jealousy daggered at Douglas from nowhere.

 

“ _Mr_ Crieff, I’d’ve said, nowadays –“ Douglas muttered, then slammed his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to be so cruel, and only hoped Martin hadn’t heard him.

 

Luckily the technician was carrying on speaking. “I’m Diego –“ _Aha. Spanish. Guessed correctly,_ Douglas thought. “- And I’ll be doing your ultrasound.” The Spaniard took a seat on the stool by the bed, and gestured. “If you’d like to lie down, Mr Richardson, and your partner can sit just there.”

 

“He’s not my partner.” Martin sounded just a trifle breathless, and Douglas’ eyes narrowed.

 

“For the purposes of _this_ , yes you are,” Douglas commented acerbically, and busied himself with rearranging his clothing so he didn’t have to look at Martin. By the time he’d got himself sorted on the bed, he rather regretted his ridiculous envy and reached out apologetically. “Come closer, Martin,” Douglas beckoned, urging Martin to pull his chair nearer, hoping that the Alpha wouldn’t have comprehended the unjust jealousy inspiring his curtness. “You can’t see the screen there.”

 

“Is that OK?” Martin resettled himself as Diego shook the gel bottle over Douglas’ stomach.

 

Diego smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

 

Douglas flinched as the gel hit his skin. It was warm, but he’d never liked the odd, gloopy sensation of it. Diego twisted the screen a little, angling it so that he could see more clearly. “Ready?”

 

Martin and Douglas both nodded, and Diego readied the blunt probe. Before he touched it to Douglas’ skin, to Douglas’ surprise he felt Martin’s hand, twisting into his to hold. Douglas’ breathing stuttered and he squeezed their palms together, anticipation and excitement and happiness pushing out the poisonous green-eyed sensation of moments before.

 

“We’ll see if we can see your little one,” Diego said, and placed the probe onto Douglas’ stomach, pressing gently. He twiddled with a few of the settings, pressed in a little harder, and suddenly a regular and rapid _woozh-woozh-woozh_ noise filled the room. Martin’s hand tightened on Douglas’ - and a sudden swell of adoration made Douglas’ chest feel as though it had tripled in size.

 

“There’s the heartbeat,” Diego said. It sounded as though he was smiling, but Douglas couldn’t take his eyes off Martin, who looked rather as if he’d seen the face of God suddenly revealed to him.

 

“Hey,” Douglas said, quietly. “You OK?”

 

Martin blinked rapidly. “I can’t believe we can hear her.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Want to see?” Diego turned the screen.

 

“Wow.” Pure awe throbbed in Martin’s voice, and Douglas couldn’t deny that the same emotion was causing his own eyes to fill with tears.

 

“You see her?” he asked, his gaze fastening on the little shape, swimming blurry and grey against the black background.

 

“She’s _kicking_.” Martin sounded amazed. “Can you feel that?”

 

“Not yet.” Douglas swallowed hard. “Soon, though.” _Soon_.

 

“We’ll just take some measurements. Check everything’s OK.” Diego’s soft voice barely broke into Martin and Douglas’ concentration as he clicked around with the machine.

 

The baby’s movements slowed a little, but Martin gasped as a little hand fluttered into view before disappearing back into the blackness. “Douglas!”

 

“I saw it, I saw it.” Douglas couldn’t keep the joy from his tone.

 

“You can see her feet – her toes…” Martin threaded his fingers through Douglas’, clutching tightly. “I can’t believe it.”

 

Diego was measuring the length of the foetus, and scribbled a few notes down. “Would you like a due date?” he asked, with a grin.

 

Douglas had forgotten that he was there, almost. “Please,” he said, feeling much more kindly disposed to the gorgeous man who’d now allowed them to glimpse their child.

 

Diego made a calculation, then nodded. “I think we can say February the 20th.”

 

“That’s about what Dr Bider told us.” Martin tore his gaze away from the sonogram for just a moment. “Will we be able to take some pictures away with us?”

 

“Of course.” Diego moved the probe slightly, and Douglas winced as the pressure of it dug into his bladder. “Just one last check to make.” The mouse pointer moved to the back of the baby’s neck, and the technician clicked a couple of dashed lines into being. A different expression flashed across Diego’s face, just for a moment.

 

“What is it?” If Douglas hadn’t happened to have been looking Diego’s way, he would have missed the lapse in the sonographer’s emotional impassivity.

 

Diego seemed suddenly more serious. “Just a moment.” He redid the measurement, the regular whooshing sound of their baby’s heartbeat now a metronome to the tension stopping Douglas from drawing breath. He glanced up at Martin, checking whether he’d noticed; judging by the anxious stare back at him the Alpha gave, he had. Douglas held on to Martin’s hand, their palms clammy where they touched.

 

It seemed to take an age before Diego leant back. He looked rather grave. “I’m afraid there’s a bit of an abnormality,” he said.

 

Douglas shivered as if he’d had a bucket of frigid water upended over him. “What?” he asked, feeling as if his voice was coming from far away.

 

Diego removed the probe, and the picture of their baby vanished. An insane impulse to grab the technician’s hand flitted through Douglas’ brain – if he could get that image back, everything would be fine, their baby would be real, tangible, she would be OK –

 

“We measure something called nuchal translucency – it’s a little pocket of fluid on the back of the neck of the foetus.” Diego snagged some paper towels and passed them to Douglas to wipe up the gel, but Douglas just accepted them numbly and didn’t move. “Your baby’s has a thickness of 4mm, which is higher than normal.”

 

“What – what does that mean?” Martin’s voice broke on the words, and Douglas’s heart seemed to tear in half.

 

“It could mean nothing at all.” Diego was evidently trying to be reassuring. “But given certain – factors – in this pregnancy…” He looked a little embarrassed. “It could mean that there’s a chance of a chromosomal abnormality, like Down’s Syndrome, or of a heart defect.” He opened a drawer and extracted a couple of leaflets, passing them to Martin.

 

Douglas’ brain whirled, and he felt Martin’s hand slip from his. _No, please…_

 

“We’ll arrange an appointment with Doctor Bider for you, to discuss the implications.” Diego sounded horribly sympathetic.

 

“We’ve got one anyway – next week.” Martin choked out the sentence.

 

“That’s good. There are further examinations we can carry out – please remember that there’s a high chance things will all be fine.” Diego patted Martin’s arm, then swiped away the gel now cooling horridly on Douglas’ exposed skin, seeming to realise that Douglas wasn’t capable of doing it himself.

 

“What sort of chance?” Douglas fumbled with the paper towels, trying desperately to get Diego’s hands off him – kind and gentle though they were.

 

Diego looked rather evasive. “I can’t say, I’m afraid. With the further tests, Doctor Bider will be able to let you know.”

 

Douglas tugged his shirt down, his trousers up, and swung his legs dazedly off the couch. “Let’s go,” he said to Martin, who looked just as ill as he felt.

 

“Wait!” They both spun back to Diego, fruitless hope leaping into Douglas’ mind that he was about to tell them that it had all been a hideous practical joke; that the curtains were about to be yanked back and a corny hidden-camera TV host would be yelling _‘surprise’_! But no… that would be too ghastly.

 

Diego was holding two scraps of paper out. “Your photos. Do you want them?”

 

“Of course we want them!” Douglas was taken aback by the fury in Martin’s voice. “She’s _our baby_.”

 

Martin grabbed the bits of paper, but Douglas noticed how careful he was not to crumple them, not to smear the still-damp ink. “Come on,” Douglas said, quietly. “Thank you,” he added, as an afterthought to Diego, and the two of them left the room.

 

“Are you fit to drive?” Douglas asked Martin as they reached the car park, breaking the heavy, poignant silence that had fallen between them since their exit from the claustrophobic sideroom.

 

“Yes,” said Martin, but his shoulders sagged. “Oh. Oh, Douglas…” He sounded just as frantic with worry as Douglas felt.

 

Douglas longed to reach for him, but he was conscious of where they were. “Let’s get home,” he begged. “We can talk about it there.”

 

* * *

 

The drive went in a blur as Douglas read the leaflets Diego had provided. The printed words seemed to twitch and hop before his eyes, certain sentences leaping cruelly out at him, others vanishing unremembered.

 

_… greater probability with older parents…_

_…. can’t say for sure whether chromosomal abnormalities are present…_

_… high-risk pregnancies are common in unbonded individuals…_

 

He barely noticed as Martin parked in his drive, partly because Martin didn’t get out of the van straight away; instead, the Alpha drew the little pictures out of his inside pocket, gazing at them. There was something akin to panic in his expression.

 

“Hey, hey….” Douglas tried to jolt them out of the vacuum of anxious unhappiness that had settled over the vehicle. “Let’s go inside.”

 

He stumbled slightly as he jumped down from the passenger seat, but he managed to recover himself and open the front door so they could go through into the lounge. He’d handed the pamphlets to Martin, and could hear the rustle of him flicking through the papers as he went to put the kettle on.

 

When he returned, two steaming cups of tea in his hands, he was horrified to find that Martin had curled into a ball on the sofa, his face buried in his knees. He was still and rock-steady where he sat upright, but the fact that Douglas couldn’t see his expression scared him more than anything.

 

Douglas speedily ditched the tea onto the coffee table, and took the seat next to the Alpha. “Martin?” he asked, tentatively, unsure whether he was allowed to put a hand on his shoulder or not. A crippling sense of aloneness was echoing inside him, and he gripped at his own nape, an unconscious throb at the lack of bonding bite there making him flinch without realising it. “Martin… please…”

 

Martin looked up, and his face was as white as it had been the day Douglas had told him about the pregnancy in the first place. “Douglas.” Martin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Douglas…” He couldn’t get any further, and tried to bury his head again.

 

“No, no.” Douglas did his best to sound strong, despite the urge to break down that was clamouring at him. “Don’t hide.”

 

“It’s my fault.”

 

Martin’s whimper of anguish took Douglas utterly aback. “What are you talking about?” He gripped Martin’s shoulder without thinking about it.

 

“You read the leaflets.” Martin reached to jab a finger at the papers, knocking them onto the floor. “They talk about the importance of being close, Alphas and Omegas. I left you. I wasn’t here.”

 

“No!” Douglas clutched at Martin. “That’s not – I mean, to start with you didn’t even know I was –“ He wrapped Martin in his arms, feeling him shaking. “Besides…” he could feel his own tears threatening, and couldn’t stop them. “I’m practically _senescent_ , as they’re always so keen to remind me… I’m just – just too old –“

 

“Douglas…” Martin burrowed into Douglas’ chest, and Douglas could feel the Alpha’s tears soaking into his shirt. “Don’t say that.”

 

“Then don’t you say – what you said.” Douglas shook Martin a little.

 

“But – but what if it’s true?” Martin pulled away slightly, so he could look miserably into Douglas’ eyes. “What if she’s not okay, and it’s because of me? Because I ran away?” Tears tracked streaks of reflected sunlight down his cheeks. “Because I’m a horrible parent, and she hasn’t even been born yet?”

 

Douglas’ heart thudded painfully in his chest. “You can’t think like that,” he said, trying to be firm.

 

“But what if –“

 

“No, Martin, please –“

 

“I can’t bear it.” Martin’s knuckles dashed across his cheeks, but fresh tears replaced those he’d blotted away. “I’ve _failed_ her.”

 

“It might be fine – it might just be an anomaly –“ Douglas was trying to convince himself as much as Martin.

 

“ _What if it isn’t_?” Martin had never sounded as broken, and he was so undone that he didn’t even attempt to hide the storm of sobbing that rocked him, punctuated by incoherent gasps of “Douglas” and “my fault”.

 

Douglas grabbed for him, enveloping him in an enormous hug, swaying him as gently as he’d done for Emily when she was tiny. “Shh, shh,” he pleaded, his own tears spilling over. Martin trembled against him, crying into his chest, and Douglas was terrified at their shared grief.

 

The only thing he could think to do was what he’d done when any of his wives had been this upset – to urge Martin’s nose upwards, pressing Martin’s face into his neck so that he could scent Douglas. Martin gasped and jerked as he inhaled, Douglas’ pheromones obviously hitting the mark as he relaxed a bit and breathed in deeply once more.

 

Douglas couldn’t resist – he needed soothing himself, and this close, Martin’s scent was tantalisingly near… He bent his head, nosing behind Martin’s ear.

 

“Douglas…” Martin moaned as Douglas took a deep inhale, his brain instantly rewarding him with a hit of comforting endorphins at the smell of the Alpha pressed to him.

 

“Oh, God, Martin.” Douglas heaved a shuddering sob into Martin’s neck.

 

“I know.” Martin’s voice was muffled, and his arms had snaked round Douglas’ back – _when did that happen?_ – and Douglas felt the brush of soft lips at his earlobe.

 

With a ragged gasp, he brought his hands to cradle Martin’s cheeks, pulling back just enough to catch Martin’s eyes, seeing his own worry and sorrow and desperation reflected back at him.

 

“Douglas –“

 

There wasn’t time for Douglas to consider his actions. He needed reassurance, and Martin did too –

 

He closed the gap between them, feeling Martin start in shock as their mouths met; but then the Alpha began to kiss Douglas back, their lips moving together just as they had three months before. He groaned into Martin’s mouth, using his thumbs to brush the dampness from Martin’s cheek bones, as a sudden flash of memory stole his breath. Martin, pressing him down into the bed, biting his shoulder, holding his wrists…. “Oh God,” he gasped, breaking for air just for a moment, before leaning back in again. “Martin…”

 

Martin’s hands were in his hair, his scent all around him, and Douglas’ palm slid down the captain's chest, reaching for his leg, needing to touch, to be as close as he could possibly be –

 

“ _Stop!_ ” Martin flew backwards, shoving Douglas away so firmly that he fell back against the cushions with a _whumf_ of astonished breath. “Douglas, we can’t – we can’t –“

 

“Please,” Douglas begged, and would have died of embarrassment if he could have heard how needy he sounded.

 

Martin had stood up and was running frantic hands through his hair. “We don’t want the same thing.”

 

“But –“

 

“No.” Martin shook his head desperately. “We can’t be irresponsible – we have – for God's sake, Douglas, we’re going to have a baby –“ He looked as if someone was burning him alive. “We have to be adult about this, I don’t want to just – just _fall into bed_ with you again.” He took a step back, and Douglas’ reaching hand fell uselessly to the settee as rejection rocketed through his chest. “I don’t want you –“

 

 _BRRRRINNNG._  

 

Martin broke off in mid-sentence. “Your doorbell.”

 

“Ignore it,” Douglas retorted hoarsely even as the words _I don’t want you_ ripped painfully into his flesh. “Martin – please – can’t we talk –“

 

“I don’t want to discuss it.” Martin’s voice was flat. “Just – just leave it alone.”

 

“No, please –“

 

 _BRRRRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGG_.

 

“I’ll get the door.” Martin disappeared from the room, rubbing hard at his face, and Douglas had the agonising, horrifying realisation that his soul had gone with him.

 

“How did I –“ He stopped before he could utter the sentence aloud.

 

_How did I let this happen?_

_How did I fall in love with Martin Crieff?_


	18. Σ

Douglas dimly heard the noise of Martin opening the front door. _Probably a salesman. Or a Jehovah’s Witness._ He willed them to go away, determined to hoik Martin back to the settee so they could discuss things once and for all. He passed a weary hand across his forehead, but at the sound of a very familiar voice echoing down his hallway he jerked upright before he could stop himself.

 

“What are _you_ doing here, Martin?” The voice echoed, rich with astonishment; unmistakeable.

 

Douglas shot into the hall without a second thought, blinking in amazement at the diminutive figure who was gaping at Martin in the doorway. “ _Carolyn_?”

 

“The very same.” Carolyn shut her mouth and recovered herself slightly. “Can I come in?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead stepping briskly inside, past Martin, who seemed to have been turned to stone.

 

“It’s not a good time –“ Douglas began, words helplessly tailing off as Carolyn marched past them both into the lounge.

 

“Tea for me, if you’re making it.” Carolyn took a seat and primly folded her arms, impervious to Douglas’ look of irritation at her presumption.

 

“I don’t think – oh, _fine_.” Douglas had briefly considered resisting, but then gave up. What was the point, really? He recognised Carolyn’s most determined mood of old. With a heavy sigh, he turned to head for the kitchen, only to find that Martin had beaten him to it.

 

“I’ll go.” Martin departed without a backwards glance.

 

Douglas thought about following him, but a meaningful cough from Carolyn behind him held him back. He wearily sank into a chair, and looked over at her. “Well?”

 

Carolyn spluttered indignation. “Well what? It’s me that should be asking you.”

  
  
“Asking me what?”

 

Carolyn glared even harder. “Why I haven’t heard from you for three months, you imbecile.”

 

Douglas spluttered. “Carolyn, you _fired_ us.”

 

“Yes! Until you’d got sorted out!”

 

“Hah, that’s one way of putting it –“

 

Carolyn waved away his objection. “And now I find Martin here.” Her eyes fell on the model aeroplanes that had found their way onto Douglas’ bookcase from amongst Martin's belongings. “ _Living_ here, if I’m not much mistaken.” She stared furiously at Douglas. “And you didn’t think to come back to MJN – because?”

 

“Because we’re not bonded.” Martin’s voice from the doorway made Douglas’ head snap round.

 

“Not b-“ Carolyn threw her hands up in apparent despair. “Well, for goodness’ sake. What on earth are you waiting for?”

 

“We’re not together.” Martin set the three mugs of tea down, retrieving the tea Douglas had made on their return from hospital just an hour before that had cooled, undrunk, while he and Douglas had been lost in their emotional outpouring. He disappeared back into the kitchen with them and Douglas turned back to Carolyn, who looked as bewildered as he’d ever seen her.

 

“Not together?” Carolyn pursed her lips. “Why in the world –“

 

“It’s none of your business, Carolyn.”

 

“But –“ Carolyn dropped her voice to a whisper. “Why’s he living with you, then? Arthur said he’d moved to Anglesey, of all places. And then that he couldn’t find Martin, and that neither of you were replying to his messages this week.”

 

“So you thought you’d come and nose around, is that it?”

 

“Arthur’s worried out of his mind!” Carolyn left the words _'and so am I'_ unspoken, but Douglas could detect the fretfulness underlying her rebuke. He felt slightly warmer towards her, but squashed the feeling. Carolyn was still responsible for getting rid of him and Martin, after all.

 

“We’re sorry…” Martin had returned, was leaning awkwardly against the door jamb. “We were going to contact him – just had to wait until –“ He glanced anxiously at Douglas, who reflected for a moment, then nodded in acquiescence. He beckoned Martin to sit beside him.

 

“We had to wait until today,” Douglas said, grateful when Martin took the seat next to his – even if the Alpha was a little too obviously careful not to let their legs brush together, straining away from him slightly.

 

“Today?” Carolyn still looked perplexed. “What’s today?”

 

Douglas took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” He waited for the explosion.

 

Carolyn’s mouth fell open, her eyes flying wide. “Pregnant?” she asked, weakly. “ _You_?”

 

Douglas was nettled. “Yes.” To his shock, Martin reached and covered his hands with a restraining palm.

 

“We didn’t… plan for this.” Martin’s voice was quiet, but there was no trace of regret in it.

 

“Well, clearly.” Carolyn gave herself a shake, and returned to the fray. “So, why haven’t you come back to work, then?”

 

“We’re not bonded. Still can’t fly.”

 

Carolyn batted away Douglas’ response. “But surely, when the baby’s born –“

 

“No.” Martin rejected her assumption firmly and withdrew his hand from Douglas' lap. “It’s not what we want.”

 

Carolyn glared and seemed about to object, but then reconsidered. While she was pondering, Douglas tried to hold back the sadness overflowing inside him, sipping his tea to cover the grief threatening to show on his face. He wanted to be talking to Martin, not Carolyn; they had so much to discuss….

 

“Congratulations.” Carolyn interrupted his contemplation. “I should have said.”

 

“Th-thank you.” Martin’s voice broke slightly.

 

“What’s the matter?” Douglas had never known Carolyn could sound so gentle, nor so concerned. He was struck with an abrupt awareness of her motherhood; there was a look in her eyes that was nothing but maternal.

 

“Douglas…” Martin turned to him, and Douglas knew without him having to explain.

 

“We had the first scan today - that's what the significance of _today_ was,” he said, quietly, as Martin hung his head.

 

“And?” Carolyn looked more worried.

 

“There was an abnormality.”

 

“What?”

 

“They said…” Martin inhaled deeply, but carried on. “Something about… nuchal translucency. It’s higher than normal.”

 

Carolyn frowned. “That’s the marker for Down’s Syndrome, isn’t it?”

 

“Amongst other things.” Douglas’ voice was heavy. “Chromosomal abnormalities. Heart problems.”

 

“I see.” Carolyn was silent for a moment. “Could they tell you anything definitive?”

 

“We have to see our consultant next week. He’ll tell us more.” Douglas folded his hands in his lap, disconcerted to realise they were trembling slightly. More than anything he wanted to be folded up in Martin’s arms again – not even to kiss him, just to be close, to be comforted. He shoved the thought away, but it lingered and niggled at the back of his mind, an uncomfortable awareness like an electrical hum in a quiet room.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“We need to talk about it.” Douglas flapped a hand. “We’d only just got back from the appointment.”

 

“You do?” Carolyn looked surprised, then shook her head. “No, I mean – of course you do – it’s just –“

 

“What?” Martin leant forward.

 

“Just – has anything changed, really?”

 

“What do you mean?” Douglas tilted his head in blank puzzlement.

 

“Well, I grant that no one expects to hear things might be turning out – somewhat… atypically.” Carolyn shifted, though she spread her hands and spoke bluntly. “But will you really love your baby any less?” She looked them both in the eye. “If it isn’t quite… _perfect_?”

 

“She is perfect.” Martin spoke fiercely. “No matter how she comes.”

 

Carolyn looked satisfied. “Exactly.” She nodded. “I don’t think either of you are anything like Gordon, after all.”

 

“What do you mean?” Douglas asked.

 

“Well, to all intents and purposes, Arthur was a _perfect_ baby. Healthy. Happy. Normal, whatever that means.” Carolyn sighed, and suddenly looked every one of her 63 years, the patchy sunlight through the window illuminating her crows’ feet, the wrinkles in her forehead. “Until he grew up, and Gordon realised that this wasn’t the son he’d been imagining. Arthur was… special. Still is.” She shook her head. “But to people like Gordon, that’s a failing, not something to be treasured. So he left.”

 

“Arthur is special.” Martin sounded suddenly soft, and a tendril of affection uncurled inside Douglas’ heart, longing to wrap itself around the Alpha.

 

“He is. But no one could say Arthur was normal.” Carolyn spoke hastily. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” She leant back in her chair, swigging her tea before she spoke again. “I just mean… even if today’s scan had been utterly unexceptional, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t surprises down the line, that your child will turn out exactly how you picture him or her. Life just… isn’t like that.”

 

“But what if there’s some terrible problem?” Douglas was almost amazed to hear himself speak. “Her heart…”

 

Carolyn regarded him steadily. “You’re worried, of course you are.” She stood and crossed the room to put her hand on Douglas’ shoulder. He looked up at her, feeling suddenly watery. “But, Douglas… you know just as well as I do… that’s what comes with –“

 

“Being a parent.” Douglas finished her sentence, and she nodded.

 

“I’m sorry for you.” Carolyn reached for Martin, too, taking his hand. He sat in numb silence. “I came to try and talk you back to work - although I can understand that's not a possibility just now. Arthur’s going out of his mind fretting about you both, and I can’t stand it any longer.” She frowned. “If the boy tries to collar me one more time in the middle of the night or when I’m in the bath, asking why you two have gone away…” She groaned and let her hands fall back to her sides. “I can’t take it anymore.”

 

“Tell him the truth.” Douglas spoke up.

 

“We’re… no danger to you, or to MJN. Not any longer.” Martin’s voice had just a hint of bitterness in it, and Carolyn’s eyes flicked sharply to him, though she didn’t say anything about it.

 

“Fine. I’ll tell him.” A smile lit up her face for a short moment. “He’ll be so excited for you.” A ray of sunshine spread across the floor as the clouds outside drifted away, and Douglas felt the warmth of it creeping through him. “When are you due?” Carolyn asked.

 

“February 20th.”

 

Carolyn nodded. “You’ve got time then, to prepare.”

 

Douglas nodded. “Time.”

 

“I’ll show myself out.” Carolyn stepped back. “Thanks for the tea, Martin.” Martin made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t stir from his reverie.

 

“I’ll come with you.” Douglas followed Carolyn to the front door, opening it for her.

 

“I’m glad he’s here,” Carolyn said, quietly enough so her voice wouldn’t carry to the lounge. "I was half worried that he was - out on the street somewhere."

 

“Mm.” Douglas nodded. “The doctors say it'll help. With the pregnancy. Him being here, that is." He shuffled his feet, embarrassment twisting in his stomach. After an awkward pause, he carried on. "It’s… good to see you.” His resentment had faded in the face of her kindness, he was astonished to realise.

 

“You too.” Carolyn exited to the porch, but turned round. “I still want you back. Both of you.”

 

“Herc not working out for you?” Douglas asked, a touch of asperity back in his tone. He was amazed to see Carolyn’s cheeks pinken, and she blustered a little.

 

“Herc’s perfectly… fine. But I want you two back.”

 

Douglas shook his head wearily. “It’s not what Martin wants.”

 

“He’s had six better offers, since leaving?’ Carolyn’s comment was her at her most acerbic.

 

“It’s not _that_ – he can’t – we can’t –“ Douglas ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Things are complicated.”

 

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. “You certainly seem to have a talent for making them so.” Douglas growled at her, and she raised a defensive palm. “All right, all right.” She sighed. “I hope you two can sort it out, that’s all. And I’ll be glad to tell Arthur that he’s definitively not at fault for your absence.”

 

“Do.” Douglas leant his head wearily against the door. “We’d be glad to see him.”

 

Carolyn gave a brisk nod. “Good luck. With the appointments ahead.” Her eyes softened again. “I’ll be… thinking of you.”

 

“Thanks.” Douglas felt suddenly choked up, and became brisk to conceal it. “See you.”

 

“Bye.” Carolyn departed, making for her car, and Douglas shut the door behind her. He leant his forehead against the cool wood for a moment, before turning to head back into the lounge. It was time to tackle Martin.

 

But when he opened the door, Martin wasn’t there. He hesitated for a moment, before a cool breeze drifting into the house gave him an idea. He walked through to the kitchen, and was proved correct; his back door was open, and through the window, he could see Martin sitting cross-legged on the grass outside, leaning against the old and gnarled oak tree at the foot of the garden.

 

Douglas hesitated, but then summoned his courage and walked outside. “Martin?”

 

Martin looked up as he approached, the expression on his face guarded. “Yes?”

 

Douglas sat down next to him, ignoring the slight dampness of the lawn. “What did you think?” he asked. “Of what Carolyn said?”

 

Martin’s eyes became less wary, more contemplative. “She’s right,” he said. “Much as I’m loath to admit that where she’s concerned.”

 

Douglas nodded. “I agree.” He pulled meditatively at the grass, uprooting strands of it to rub through his fingers. “Whatever happens… I don’t think I could love any child of ours less, however they turn out."

 

“No.” Martin’s voice was quiet.

 

“Some of the tests it talks about in those leaflets… amniocentesis, for instance… they could put her at risk.” Douglas gazed downwards. “Slight risk, of course, but…”

 

“You don’t want to.”

 

“No.” Douglas looked up, trying to read Martin. “What do you think?”

 

“Let’s hear what Doctor Bider has to say.” Martin’s attitude was a hundred times calmer than it had been an hour before. “But I don’t want anything to risk her safety either, even for the sake of… knowing what’s coming.”

 

“I love her.” It was the first time Douglas had said it out loud, and Martin’s face did something complicated.

 

“I know.” He smiled, wanly. “Me too.”

 

“Martin…” Douglas reached out a hand. “About before….”

 

Martin’s eyes instantly shuttered again. “I don’t want to discuss it.” He wrapped his arms round his knees.

 

“But –“ Douglas' arm dropped back to his side.

 

“ _No_ , Douglas.” Martin shook his head. “Things are complicated enough already. I can’t – I can’t deal with… anything else.”

 

“But, please –“ Douglas just wanted to talk, just talk –

 

“ _No_.” Martin nearly shouted, and closed his eyes. “Just – leave me alone. Please.” He sounded broken, and something in Douglas’ soul cracked at the sight of Martin’s distress. “I can’t take it. Not again - not now, I mean. Not today.”

 

“I –“ Douglas’ shoulders hitched, and he bit back a murmur of anguish. He sighed, resignation settling heavy in the pit of his stomach. “OK.” He got reluctantly to his feet. “Will you be alright?”

 

“I’m fine.” Martin didn’t look fine. His face was white, and his eyes were scrunched tightly closed.

 

Douglas hovered for a second, unsure whether to leave, but then Martin fixed him with a damp glare. “ _Go_. For goodness’ sake.” Martin exhaled hard through his nose. “I need some time alone.”

 

Douglas didn’t know what to say, his fists clenching and unclenching as he made up his mind. At last, he nodded. “Fine.”

 

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he turned. He walked away.


	19. T

* * *

 

_Week 14:_

_“…Your baby is almost fully formed now. Although she weighs just under 2 ounces, that will change rapidly in the weeks ahead. She now has a recognisable neck, and her head sits up a bit from her chest…”_

 

* * *

 

“Try to focus on the fact that even with this abnormality, the overall probability of chromosomal disorders is still very small.” Doctor Bider was using his most reassuring tone of voice as he leant towards them over the desk.

 

Douglas nodded. “Nonetheless…” He sighed. “You can understand we’re concerned.” He looked over at Martin, struck – not for the first time that week – by how pale his housemate had become. Martin hadn’t spoken much, working every hour he could, and Douglas was beginning to get desperately anxious about him.

 

“What is it particularly that concerns you?” The doctor’s eyes flicked to Martin, too, but the Alpha remained just as mute as he had for the rest of the appointment.

 

Douglas answered for them both. “About any abnormalities that would endanger her health, particularly.” He clasped his hands tightly in his lap. “The idea of a heart defect… is particularly troubling me.”

 

“There’s a lot we can do in many instances where that proves to be the case.” Doctor Bider examined again the grainy images of their first scan. “We can prepare very thoroughly for most eventualities.”

 

“There was one other thing.” Douglas tried not to show his surprise as Martin spoke up for the first time. “We’ve read about the further tests that can be done to get a more exact picture –“

 

“Such as amniocentesis?” The consultant looked up.

 

“Yes, for instance.” Martin nodded. “But… we –“ his glance shot to Douglas for a moment, checking – “we don’t want to do anything at all that would endanger our baby’s safety. No matter how slight the risk.”

 

“I can easily understand that.” Doctor Bider spread his hands reassuringly. “But try not to get ahead of yourselves. The first thing we’ll do is take another scan in two weeks’ time. We might well find then that there’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“Even –“ Douglas choked slightly, an undercurrent of guilt still lurking like an aquifer inside him. “Even given my age? The fact that… we’re not… bonded...?”

 

Doctor Bider accurately read the shame in Douglas’ face. “Guilt is a very common reaction to this situation.” He looked seriously at both of them. “But please, try not to blame yourselves for anything. Particularly before we know whether there is anything wrong or not. There’s no question of anyone being at fault, here.”

 

Douglas tightened his jaw for a second, still feeling worried, but he had to confess that the doctor’s words were some sort of balm for the blame he’d mentally been pouring on himself ever since the original ultrasound. He hoped that it would do the same for Martin.

 

The consultant closed the file. “You’ll get an appointment for a repeat scan for 16 weeks – so in a fortnight’s time.” He smiled. “In the meantime, just keep doing everything you’re doing – it’s perfect.”

 

Douglas knew he was still trying to reassure them; and it worked, to some extent. He definitely felt better than he had when they’d arrived... except for the fact that he and Martin were still barely speaking to each other.

 

* * *

 

_Week 15_

_“…her ears are nearly in position, and she can turn her head. She can make fists and point her toes too, though most of the time these movements are reflexive…”_

 

* * *

 

“Want any dinner, Martin?” Douglas turned around as Martin slipped into the kitchen.

 

“I’ve eaten.” Martin reached for a glass and went to fill it at the tap.

 

“I didn’t notice.”

 

Martin turned his head away, though Douglas was sure that if he could have seen the Alpha’s expression, it would have been a guilty one. “I ate while I was out.”

 

“Nice try. You’ll never make a poker player.” Douglas attempted to speak lightly, but his heart was swelling in concern.

 

“Good job. I hate playing cards.” Martin shut off the tap, and tried to sidle out again, but Douglas blocked his path. “What?”

 

“Martin.” Douglas looked steadily at the Alpha, trying to understand him, to divine what was going on underneath. Martin stared back, clearly essaying impassivity, but a muscle jumping in his jaw gave him away.

 

“What?!” Martin snapped, after the silence had stretched out like fraying elastic between them. “Come on, Douglas, I’ve got things – things to do.”

 

“No.” Firmly, Douglas took Martin’s arm and steered him to a chair. “You and I are going to talk about this.”

 

Martin sulkily folded his arms. “Talk about what?”

 

Douglas gestured, annoyance prickling at him despite his concern. “You’re losing weight. You barely speak.” He pulled a stool closer to Martin, and sat. “I’m worried about you.”

 

Martin stared at the table, moodily picking at a thumbnail. He remained silent, so Douglas carried on. “Please tell me – have I done something?”

 

“No!” Martin looked shocked at the question, surprise jolting him out of his sullen expression for a moment.

 

“Is it… is it the baby, then?” Douglas was instinctively palming the new curve of his stomach.

 

Martin considered for a second, then nodded, slowly. “I – Yes. Yes, that’s all it is.”

 

 _You’re lying_. Douglas sighed, but didn’t press the issue. “You heard Dr Bider. We have to hold on to the possibility that things are all going to be OK.”

 

“And if they’re not?” Real worry trembled in Martin’s voice.

 

“We’ll deal with it.” Martin let out a long, tired sigh, and Douglas reached to stroke his arm. “Hey. You know we’ll cope. And we’ll love her. Just – just look at what Carolyn said.”

 

Martin leant into his caress for a second, but then stood up. Douglas’ hand dropped to the table, and a renewed sense of rejection coursed through him. “Sorry,” Martin muttered. “I need to go to bed – tired.”

 

“Of course.” Douglas sat back. “You’re working too hard.”

 

“Need the money.”

 

Douglas opened his mouth, but then shut it again. Finances were always going to be Martin’s sore point, and he was reluctant to poke at it this evening. He jumped as Martin’s hand gripped his shoulder. “What?”

 

“Are you alright? Feeling alright, I mean?”

 

Douglas met Martin’s eyes, finding concern there. “I’m OK.”

 

“Are you sure?” Guilt was creeping across Martin’s features. “I know I’ve been… out a lot.”

 

“Yes, I'm sure.” Douglas genuinely didn’t feel too bad, all things considered. “Just a bit tired, still.”

 

“Certain?” Martin withdrew his hand, and Douglas’ shoulder felt odd without it being there. “I can sit in the lounge with you for a bit, if you want a nap.”

 

“It’s fine.” Douglas smiled, but knew it wasn’t touching his eyes. “I’ll go to bed, too. I’m not really hungry.”

 

“… Alright.” Martin picked up his glass, and headed for the door. “Goodnight, then.”

 

“Sleep well.” Douglas rubbed a weary hand at his temple. On a whim, he spoke again. “You can talk to me, you know. Anytime.”

 

Martin had frozen in the doorway, his back to Douglas. “Thanks,” he responded, and Douglas didn’t miss the unhappiness in his voice. Without reflecting on his actions, in two paces he was behind the Alpha, reaching for him – but Martin had heard, and stepped away.

 

Douglas could only watch him go, feeling utterly powerless. He had tried desperately for the past fortnight to think of Martin as just a friend – a friend who needed comforting – but his emotions, once realised, were hard to quash.

 

“Martin,” he murmured, but the Alpha didn’t hear him, and Douglas was again left on his own.

 

* * *

 

_Week 16_

_“…your baby is still small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, but barely. He's growing fast now, reaching more than 4 inches in length and weighing in at about 5 ounces…”_

 

* * *

 

“What time do you call this?” Douglas glared as Martin rounded the corner of the corner of the waiting room at a run.

 

Martin collapsed red-faced and sweating into the chair next to Douglas. “I’m sorry – sorry –“ he huffed, gasping to get his breath back.

 

“Where _were_ you?” Douglas was fuming. The appointment they’d both been so anxious about, and Martin had nearly missed it.

 

“Client – had so much – stuff –“

 

“I can’t believe you scheduled something this tightly.” Douglas folded his arms and glared at the opposite wall, ignoring the curious stares of the lovey-dovey couples around them at their evident contretemps.

 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Martin protested, which only served to kindle Douglas’ ire. “The man was late, and he held me up, and then he made me go back because he’d forgotten something –“

 

“Hmph.” Douglas’ underlying anxiety about the scan was doing nothing to calm his rage.

 

Martin was beginning to look less apologetic and more annoyed himself, now. “I texted you.”

 

“I didn’t get it. My phone’s off, remember? We’re in a _hospital_.”

 

“That’s not my f-“

 

“Douglas Richardson?” The male voice stopped them both mid-argument. It looked like Diego was ready for them.

 

“I’m still in time, see?” Martin hissed to Douglas as they stood up.

 

“Barely.” Douglas didn’t quite flounce into the small room, but it was a near-run thing. Nerves were making his pulse thunder along, and the smile he gave the handsome sonographer was strained in the extreme.

 

“How are you both?” Diego asked, indicating Douglas should settle himself on the couch.

 

“Fine,” Douglas said, sullenly.

 

“Very well, thank you.” Martin’s voice was slightly breathy again, but this time Douglas didn’t think exertion was the cause of it. His eyes narrowed, but he bit his tongue.

 

“ _Excelente_.” Diego fiddled with the machine. “Let’s have another look at your little one, then, shall we?”

 

Douglas wordlessly pulled his top up. He didn’t want to look at Martin, but the Alpha had taken a seat next to him, just as before.

 

 _You held my hand, last time_. The errant thought flashed across Douglas’ brain before he could stop it, and he clenched his fist as the warm gloop was squirted onto his skin again.

 

“OK. We begin.” Diego moved the probe downwards, making contact with Douglas’ bump.

 

To start with, all there was to hear was muted crackling as Diego shifted the probe around. Martin shifted nervously next to Douglas. “Where’s her heartbeat?” he asked, after a few seconds, anxiety pitching his voice higher than usual.

 

“We’ll find it.” Diego shot Martin a reassuring smile, and pushed the probe a bit higher. “Come on, _mi querida_. Don’t hide.”

 

Douglas glanced at Martin, whose gaze was fixed on the screen. His face was pale under his freckles, and despite Douglas’ irritation with him, an unwanted jolt of mingled affection and concern at Martin’s pallor flitted through his chest.

 

“Aha!” Diego had found the foetus. The same whooshing thrum as the previous month was now echoing from the ultrasound machine, and Douglas’ stare instantly transferred to the screen.

 

“ _There_ you are.” Martin’s tone was positively saturated with love, and an answering swell of affection surged inside Douglas, too. Their baby was noticeably bigger than before, taking up more of the display, and she was moving rhythmically - flapping her tiny arms in response to the pressure on Douglas’ tummy.

 

“She looks like she’s flying.”

 

Douglas had spoken without meaning to, and Martin glanced down at him, smiling, though he looked away just as quickly. “Like father, like daughter,” he muttered.

 

“You fly?” Diego’s voice broke into their concentration.

 

Martin flushed, but Douglas answered hastily. “We used to. Not anymore.” He prayed that Diego wasn't familiar with the CAA's regulations pertaining to Alpha and Omega pilots.

 

“Ah, I have always wanted to learn.” Diego was taking measurements as he spoke, noting them down. “Flying – there can be no feeling like it, I think.”

 

“There isn’t.” Martin spoke eagerly. “Taking off, especially – that feeling of soaring into the sky, knowing you’re controlling this huge machine – oh, it’s incredible.”

 

“Perhaps you could take me up sometime.” Diego smiled at Martin, and Douglas frowned as Martin's blush deepened.

 

“I can’t,” Martin said. “No plane. I mean – not anymore.”

 

“That’s a shame.” Diego took another reading. “You must miss it.”

 

“We both do,” Douglas interrupted, his voice louder than he’d intended it to be. Both Diego and Martin started, and Douglas fractiously mused that they seemed to have forgotten he was even there.

 

Diego examined the image attentively, then turned back to smile at them both. “Anyway… I have some good news for you.”

 

“Yes?” Martin and Douglas both answered in unison, each sounding as fretful as the other.

 

Diego’s grin broadened, making him even more handsome than before. “Your baby’s nuchal translucency reading is now normal for this stage of your pregnancy.”

 

“N-normal?” Martin seemed unable to believe it. Douglas wasn’t sure he did, either.

 

“Yes.” Diego switched off the machine, and Douglas saw the image blink away with another pang of longing. “This is very common – the translucency wasn’t much higher than normal last month, and it may be that from now on there are no more aberrations.”

 

“So – our baby is OK?” Douglas almost didn’t dare ask.

 

“We will continue to monitor you – you remain –“

 

“- a geriatric pregnancy, _I know_ –“

 

“Douglas.” Martin rested a restraining hand on his arm.

 

Douglas bit his lip. “Sorry,” he grudgingly said to Diego.

 

Diego waved the apology away, and handed Douglas a wodge of paper towels to blot away the gel. “I’ll report the findings to Dr Bider. But you should be optimistic. This is a good result.” He smiled at them. “How do you feel?”

 

Martin let out a _whoosh_ of breath. “Goodness.” He passed a shaking palm over his hair; Douglas’ hands were still full of tissue, and he couldn’t reach for Martin’s hand as he’d have liked to. “It’s – it’s a rollercoaster, this – this pregnancy lark, isn’t it?”

 

Diego laughed. “Your first, if I remember right?” he asked. At Martin’s nod, he went on. “We run pre-natal classes, you know. If that would help you.”

 

Douglas shook his head. “Don’t need them. It’s my third.”

 

Martin, to Douglas’ surprise, glared at him. “ _I_ might,” he said, fiercely. “There’s loads I don’t know.”

 

Before Douglas could speak, Diego was fishing a small card from one of the room’s desk drawers. “It’s fine if you want to come without Douglas, Martin.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m running late already, but…” He flashed Martin a rather flirtatious smile. “If you like, we could meet for coffee sometime? I could tell you what the course consists of.”

 

Martin’s eyes widened. “That sounds… good.” He didn’t look at Douglas, who had been tugging his shirt down. At Martin’s words, though, the Omega froze.

 

Diego had pulled out a pen, was writing something on the card. “Here’s my number.” He handed it over to Martin. “Give me a ring. We’ll arrange something.”

 

Electric jealousy crackled through Douglas as powerfully as if he’d just stuck a fork into a socket. He positively leapt off the bed, just as Martin was beginning to stammer his thanks. “Let’s go.” Douglas spoke over Martin, ignoring the hurt glance the Alpha gave him as he headed furiously for the door.

 

“Very good,” Diego called after them. “Bye, then.”

 

“Thanks –“ Martin followed Douglas, having to pace quickly to keep up. “Douglas, what - what’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing.” Douglas had no right to his jealousy, no right at all. He knew it, but it didn’t help.

 

“The baby’s looking better – isn’t it brilliant?” Martin’s happiness was radiant, but now Douglas could take no share in it, the anger inside poisoning his momentary buoyancy at the positive result.

 

“Just what we wanted,” he said, gruffly, and guilt at his own irascibility only made him feel worse. He walked so fast that Martin struggled to keep up, and when they got to the car park he jerked his head. “I’m on the second storey.”

 

“I’m on the ground.” Martin sounded quiet, having clearly read Douglas’ rage. “I’ll – I’ll see you back at home, then?”

 

Douglas nodded sharply, and marched off without saying goodbye. When he got into his Lexus, he sat for a moment, trying to control his breathing, his fury; but try as he might, he couldn’t dam the flood of sick envy pooling in his stomach. He set out to drive home, hoping that the twenty-minute journey might calm him, but by the time he pulled through the gates of his house, he really didn’t feel much different than he had when Diego had flirtatiously handed Martin his card.

 

With a subvocal snarl, he locked his car, and tried to creep into the house; unsuccessfully. Martin was standing in the hall, waiting for him.

 

“Douglas.” Martin had folded his arms, and it was Douglas’ turn to try not to meet his eyes.

 

“What?” he mumbled, bending away on the pretext of toeing off his shoes.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing.” Douglas straightened up, trying not to betray his emotions.

 

Martin snorted. “Credit me with some intelligence, please.” He barred Douglas’ way, trapping him in the vestibule. “Tell me what’s going on.”

 

“Because _you’ve_ been so open and forthcoming?” Douglas hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but it was too late to take it back.

 

Martin’s face shuttered. “That’s different.” He stepped forwards. “I said I was sorry for being late.”

 

“I heard you.”

 

Martin made a noise of frustration. “I _apologised_ , Douglas. I didn’t mean to leave you waiting.” His eyes were softer, suddenly. “We’ve both been anxious, you can’t believe I wanted you to have to sit there on your own.”

 

“I was fine,” Douglas snapped, tersely. “I don’t –“ He bit off the statement before he could utter it. _I don’t need you. Except – I do, I do…_

 

“What?” Martin frowned. “If it’s not that I was late, then – _oh_.” His face cleared, abruptly, as realisation evidently struck. “Douglas. It’s not that – it can’t be that I took Diego’s card.”

 

“Full marks,” Douglas growled, and Martin stared at him furiously.

 

“Don’t be so stupid.”

 

“Martin, for God’s sake.” Blood thundered in Douglas’ brain. “He was all over you.” He imitated Diego’s Spanish accent, a crude mockery of the man. “Ooh, Mr _Pilot_ , take me to ze sky. Have coffee weez me.”

 

Hurt filled Martin’s expression. “He didn’t mean it like that!”

 

“Oh, didn't he?” Douglas was shouting now, irrationality be damned. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

 

Martin’s breath caught, a horrid cross between a hiccup and a sob. Douglas didn’t even feel guilty – not yet. “So _what_ , Douglas?” He flung out a dismissive hand. “Anyway, I don’t believe you.”

 

“You never do!”

 

“You’re being cruel!” Martin glared in wounded incomprehension. “No one would ever w-want me. Not like _that –“_

_“I DO!”_

 

Douglas’ roar echoed through the entire house, and too late, he realised what he’d said. In the gaping silence that followed, everything seemed magnified. Douglas could even hear the ticking of the clock in the next room.

 

“What did you say?” Martin’s voice was barely a whisper.

 

Douglas’ insides writhed. He searched desperately for a way out, but couldn’t find one. “I said…. I... want you.”

 

Martin blinked at him.

 

“I’m sorry.” Douglas tried to push past, heading for the stairs, but suddenly Martin had his wrist in an iron grip.

 

“Wait.” Martin’s voice was shaking. “You don’t – you can’t mean that.”

 

Douglas revolved slowly to face him, cheeks burning. “Why can’t I?”

 

Martin’s mouth opened and shut, goldfish-style, before he spoke. “You… you wouldn’t bond with me.”

 

It was Douglas’ turn to look shocked. “Of course I wouldn’t!” he said, indignantly. “What, and make you throw your life away during your first ever heat, to someone you don’t even – don’t even love?”

 

Martin’s eyes blazed again, and there was a fleeting sense of relief in Douglas – at last, here was the anger he’d been expecting to follow his declaration. But instead, Martin brought his mouth crashing to Douglas’; all lips and teeth, biting as much as he was kissing. Time sped up, and the few seconds that the kiss inhabited vanished so quickly Douglas barely counted them before they were gone.

 

Martin pulled back, breathing hard, but he didn’t let Douglas go. “Don’t love?” he asked, and his words were livid. “I _told_ you, Douglas. I told you I’d wanted you for months.”

 

“You did?” Douglas furiously wracked his brains. “I don’t –“

 

Martin laughed, mockingly. “Don’t remember?” He shook his head. “How can you not remember? If – if my _love_ isn’t something you want?”

 

“I don’t know!” Douglas was desperate. “I don’t – I can’t – _oh_.” The memory burst in his brain like a firework. “Through the hotel door. At the start. You said – _oh my God_.” Douglas stared at Martin as if he was seeing him for the first time.

 

Martin was watching him, doubt apparently creeping in. “You really… didn’t remember?”

 

“No.” Douglas shook his head. “You have to believe me.”

 

Martin’s blue eyes were all Douglas could focus on, and uncertainty was evident within them. “You can’t want me,” he repeated, but there was hesitation in the phrase, now.

 

“Of course I do.” Douglas tried to bend his head, to kiss Martin again, but Martin stopped him.

 

“No one _ever_ wants me.” He stepped back, shaking his head. “Why do you think I went to Anglesey, of all places?”

 

Douglas was confused. “Why?”

 

Martin gave another derisive laugh. “That’s where the boarding house was. That my parents and I were staying in. That’s where that girl went into heat, when I was a teenager.” He clenched his fists. “It’s the only time anyone’s ever… wanted me, like that.” Eyes closed, he groaned.

 

“It isn’t.” Douglas paced softly closer, watching Martin’s tortured expression.

 

“Isn’t what?” Martin’s eyes remained shut as Douglas reached him.

 

“It’s not the only place anyone’s ever wanted you.” Douglas brushed the hair away from Martin’s damp forehead, and the Alpha shivered beneath his fingertips. “I wanted you in Inverness.”

 

“You were in heat,” Martin murmured, wetly. “You’d have had anyone.”

 

Douglas ignored him, and replaced the caress of his fingers with lips gently bussed to Martin’s temple. Martin squeaked, but didn’t jump away. “I wanted you in the air, on the journey home.” He kissed Martin’s cheekbone. “I wanted you when I was hiding away in France.” A soft peck to Martin’s jaw. “I wanted you in Fitton.” He breathed softly, feeling Martin tremble next to him. “I want you. Now. Here. In this hallway.” Nosing at Martin’s cheek, he slid a hand round the Alpha’s slim waist. “I want you. I want you.” Douglas’ lips pressed tenderly to Martin’s, and when he spoke again he only barely drew back. “Do you believe me?”

 

Martin shuddered, and he opened his eyes, meeting Douglas’ at last.

 

“Yes.”


	20. Y

* * *

 

_Week 18:_

_“…his inner ear bones and nerve endings from his ears to his brain have developed enough so that your baby might startle if he hears a loud noise. He can also sense sounds like your heartbeat and blood pumping through the umbilical cord…"_

* * *

 

“You’re home early.” Douglas stood up and wandered into the hall as he heard Martin come in.

 

Martin was shrugging his jacket off, but he looked up and gave Douglas the warm smile that always seemed to make the baby in Douglas’ belly wriggle extra-hard, now he could feel her kicking. “I finished the last job more speedily than I thought I would.” He hung up his coat, and beamed. “They tipped me extra.”

 

“Great!” Douglas smiled back, and as Martin approached he opened his arms. Martin’s cheeks were tinged with pink, but he accepted the hug, leaning into it and clasping his hands gently round Douglas’ back. Something that had felt nigglingly empty in Douglas all day was suddenly cosy and full. He exhaled a contented sigh, ruffling Martin’s curls with his breath, and Martin chuckled.

 

“Tickles.” He drew back and leant up to peck a kiss to Douglas’ cheek, taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen.

 

“I’ll make the tea.” Douglas went to put the kettle on. “You sit – you’ve been on your feet all day.”

 

Martin hesitated but then sank into a chair with a nod. “How are… both of you?” he asked, a small grin twitching his mouth upwards at the novelty of the question.

 

Douglas touched a hand to the growing swell of his belly. “Fine.” He extracted a pair of teabags from the jar on the worktop and reached for their favourite mugs. “Had to get my old ometernity clothes from the top of the wardrobe.”

 

“You didn’t lift anything heavy -?”

 

“Of course not.” Douglas gave a mildly exasperated glance over his shoulder, and Martin held up his hands, subsiding with a sheepish shrug. “I haven’t worn these jeans since a decade ago.” He smoothed at the waistband. “I hope they don’t look too hideously passé.”

 

Martin laughed. “Since when did you care what was in fashion?”

 

Douglas brought the tea over to the table to steep. “Just because my style _looks_ effortless…” he teased, and drew up the chair next to Martin. “She’s kicking more and more, too.” It had taken until a fortnight before for Douglas to be 100% certain that the baby was kicking, but these days it was unmistakeable.

 

Martin’s eyes brightened. “When will I be able to feel her?” he asked, barely contained excitement evident.

 

“Try now, if you like.” Douglas tried to shift round in his chair, but couldn’t get comfy. “Let’s go in the lounge.”

 

Martin almost ran ahead of him, and perched eagerly on the sofa. Douglas laughed, bringing both mugs through. “Keen, are we? You forgot your tea.”

 

Martin flapped a hand. “Tea’s not important.” He tugged at Douglas’ wrist. “Sit, sit.”

 

“OK.” Douglas flopped down next to Martin, putting the mugs down. He waited, and after a few seconds felt the familiar flutter inside, just below his navel. “Here. Try pressing…” He took Martin’s hand and positioned it.

 

Martin stared at his hand. “I can’t feel anything.”

 

“Be firmer.” Douglas covered Martin’s hand with his own, increasing the pressure.

 

Martin glanced up worriedly. “I’m not hurting you?”

 

“No.” Douglas raised his other hand, tucking a curl behind Martin’s ear, his heart thrilling to the cosy familiarity of the action.

 

“And I won’t hurt her?”

 

Douglas shook his head. “No… You might have to be patient.”

 

“I can be patient.” Martin returned his focus to Douglas’ tummy. “Come on, little one. Kick for me.”

 

Douglas smiled, and reached to tug Martin closer against his side. “We might be here for a while,” he explained, as Martin glanced up questioningly. “I may as well take advantage of the proximity.”

 

Martin just gave a contented sigh and tucked himself more neatly under Douglas’ arm, leaning his head into the Omega’s shoulder. “Is she still kicking?” he asked, after a moment.

 

Douglas shifted Martin’s hand upwards slightly. “Try there.” He frowned. “Hang on, she’ll do it again in a minute.”

 

Martin nodded, and turned his head to nose at Douglas’ neck. “Hmm.”

 

Douglas felt the light brush of lips with a delicious shiver. “I missed you,” he murmured.

 

“You too.” Martin’s voice was muffled as he spoke into Douglas’ skin.

 

Douglas kissed Martin’s temple, the warm feel of Martin’s hand on his tummy uppermost in his mind. The sheer feeling of _rightness_ that he only got when Martin was this close to him wasn’t something he’d yet grown accustomed to, a mere two weeks after they’d finally admitted how they both felt about each other.

 

Martin stretched upwards with a wordless mumble, seeking Douglas’ mouth, and Douglas gladly kissed him back, slow and gentle, exploring rather than demanding. He cupped Martin’s cheek, and the increase in his heart rate made their baby wriggle more, rhythmic pressure inside him, a counter-beat to the steady firmness of Martin’s hand from the outside.

 

Martin’s breath came faster, and he pressed nearer still into Douglas’ side. He began to speed the movement of their lips together, and Douglas was reminded of the passion in their kiss in the hall a fortnight before, the fervour that had overcome them both before they’d regained control. Reluctantly, he eased away again, pecking his lips to Martin’s forehead to assuage any feeling of rejection. “Slowly, we said, didn’t we?”

 

Martin’s eyes were unfocused, his hair slightly mussed where Douglas’ fingers had disarranged it. “Slowly,” he agreed, and rested his head back to Douglas’ chest. “Sorry.”

 

Douglas didn’t like the guilty tone. “Hey,” he murmured. “I’m not cross.”

 

“I know.” Martin shifted so his nose was closer to Douglas’ neck again, though not touching this time. “We agreed we needed to take things…”

 

“…Gently. Take our time.” Douglas’ heart was still racing, though, the urge to kiss Martin passionately a temptation he wasn’t sure he’d mastered. Martin was so close to him, and they’d held back for days, resisting the desire to try and claim each other physically, sticking to chaste kisses and cuddling on the sofa while they worked out the implications of the change in their relationship. It would be so easy to progress faster; Martin was here, he could just kiss him again, tug off his jumper, find the expanse of pale chest that he only had blurry memories of running his hands over…

 

“Douglas!”

 

Douglas jumped guiltily, worried Martin had just read his mind. He looked down, finding Martin’s shining eyes meeting his. “What?”

 

“I felt her!”

 

All thoughts of desire fled Douglas’ brain in the excitement. “You did?” The baby moved once more inside him, another firm kick.

 

“And again!” Martin laughed, a sound of pure ecstasy mixed with amazement.

 

“You really did?” Douglas grinned.

 

“Hello, hello.” Martin squirmed and spoke directly to where his hand was. “Can you hear me?”

 

“She probably can, by this point.” Douglas rested a hand on Martin’s head. “Even if right now I suspect you’re speaking to her foot.”

 

Martin rolled his eyes up at him, but didn’t lose the happy expression. “I can’t believe she’s really… real.”

 

“You thought I’d been smuggling a pillow up there?” Douglas couldn’t help but tease, his heart leaping with delight.

 

“No, you know what I mean.” Martin rested his head to Douglas’ tummy with a murmur of happiness. “I can’t believe I can feel her.”

 

“I’m so glad.” Douglas ran his hands through Martin’s hair, smoothing out the disarray he’d caused a minute before. Martin was still focusing on trying to feel another movement, but the baby was lying more quietly again. A few moments’ stillness expanded between them, each lost in their own thoughts. “I think she’s gone to sleep,” Douglas said, eventually.

 

Martin sighed, and began to draw away, but Douglas stopped him. “You’re welcome to stay there, if you like.”

 

Martin glanced shyly up. “You don’t mind?”

 

Douglas shook his head. “Course not.” He debated whether to continue speaking, a lifelong resistance to vulnerability at war with a need for openness within him. “I… like it when you’re near me,” he confessed, at last.

 

He was glad he’d spoken when Martin smiled, the same warmth as when he’d come home reflected in his face. “I like being near you,” he said, and snuggled back into Douglas’ one-armed cuddle.

 

“Well, good.” Douglas tipped his head back, relishing the comfort. He must have dropped off for a while - he certainly misplaced twenty minutes he couldn’t account for - but when he woke up, bleary and slightly sleep-drunken, Martin was still there, hugging him just as adoringly as he had been when Douglas dozed off.

 

* * *

 

_Week 21:_

_“…Your baby is halfway to her birth size, measuring 9 or 10 inches long and growing fast. It seems like she hardly ever sleeps now that she's big enough to be felt, though in reality a baby kicks only several times per hour, then sleeps for a period of time, awakens, and kicks some more…”_

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t want to find out.” Martin looked just as surprised on their exit from the hospital as he had in their discussions in the week leading up to their half-way scan.

 

Douglas shrugged, relishing the feel of Martin’s hand in his. “I like surprises.” He led Martin back to the car and unlocked it. “Why – you haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

 

Martin climbed in to the passenger seat. “No,” he replied. “I don’t care whether it’s a boy or a girl, you know that.”

 

“Then why does it shock you that I don’t want to know either?”

 

Martin bit his lip. “I suppose… I just think of you… as easily tempted?” He appeared nervous, as if Douglas might snap at him.

 

Douglas wasn’t offended, though. “About some things,” he said, easily, and Martin relaxed. Douglas reversed out of the space and drove away. “But others – well, I would think that you of all people know that I can show considerable willpower when required.” He grinned.

 

“Me, of all people?” Martin seemed nonplussed.

 

Douglas smirked sideways at him. “If you knew the willpower I’ve been exerting, this past month…”

 

“Oh!” Martin blushed warning-light-red. “It’s… not just you, you know. Needing willpower, I mean.”

 

“No?” Douglas dragged his focus back to the road, striving to concentrate.

 

“Well – our dinners have been – lovely – and the time we went to the cinema. That was… I enjoyed it.” Martin glanced over rather shyly. “I like dating you.”

 

“Likewise.” Douglas let the warm glow at Martin’s words fill him up. “It shouldn’t be a surprise that we get on well. All that time in the flight deck should have proved that, I suppose. But even so –“

 

“- We work, don’t we?” Martin managed to sound both tentative and keen at the same time.

 

Douglas reached for his hand to squeeze, before he was forced to release it to change gear. “We work,” he agreed.

 

A comfortable silence settled between them for the rest of the drive home. It hadn’t been Diego doing the scan that day, to Douglas' gratitude; a different sonographer had been on duty. But his gratefulness at the Spaniard’s absence was dwarfed by the news that everything looked healthy – still perfectly normal, the baby they both adored doing as well as they’d all hoped. It was relief for the remaining tension Douglas hadn’t realised he’d been hanging on to after the early stress and worry.

 

As they pulled into his drive, Martin got his keys out to let them in. Douglas followed him into the house, something within delighting at the cosy domesticity of allowing his partner to unlock the door for them. There was an ease between them now that had been utterly absent at the beginning of Martin’s stay – a comfort in each other’s company that wasn’t just down to the evolution of their relationship. Somehow, over the past few weeks, they’d grown together. Douglas toed off his shoes as Martin did the same, and pondered that this was everything he’d never dared to hope for – a happiness that he thought he’d finally lost forever with Helena’s departure.

 

“What is it?” Martin’s question interrupted his musings.

 

“What?” Douglas stepped forward to hug him.

 

Martin submitted to the embrace, Douglas burrowing against him. “You look really happy.” They pulled slightly apart, allowing Martin to examine Douglas’ face. He quirked a quizzical eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

 

Douglas kissed the tip of his nose. “Just… pleased the scan went well.”

 

Martin smiled back. “Me too. Thank goodness.”

 

“Fancy making dinner with me?”

 

“Let’s.”

 

* * *

 

After they’d eaten, in what was rapidly becoming their evening routine, Martin snuggled into Douglas’ side on the sofa, one hand on Douglas’ tummy - hoping to feel a kick from their son or daughter - while Douglas watched the news. He was wearing a thicker jumper than normal, there having been a definite bite of autumn in the air, so he pulled it up out of Martin’s way. Martin sighed contentment; the feel of his palm against Douglas’ bare stomach meant that Douglas paid increasingly scant attention to the television. His mind kept searching unbidden for the details of nearly five months before, of the heat that had first brought them together, and he wasn’t sure if he really could remember parts of what had taken place or whether it was just his imagination filling in the gaps.

 

The closing credits of the bulletin rolled, but it took Martin shifting away to make Douglas notice. His brain had moved on to remember their kiss on the sofa the night before, and his attention had been all absorbed in the past rather than the present.

 

“You going to bed?” Douglas asked. Even he could hear the reluctance in his voice. They were very definitely still in separate bedrooms, and he really didn’t want Martin to leave.

 

“I don’t have to.” Martin leant back down. “You’re not tired?”

 

“No.” Guilt made Douglas reconsider. “If you are, though –“

 

“No, no.” Martin smiled at him. “I’ve no jobs till noon tomorrow. I can stay.”

 

“Good.” Douglas stroked a finger down his cheek. “That’s… very good.” He shuffled lower down in his seat, silently encouraging Martin’s face higher up his chest.

 

Martin inhaled appreciatively. “Hmmm.”

 

“What is it?” Douglas carded gentle fingers through Martin’s hair.

 

Martin slowly moved his nose against Douglas’ neck. “You smell… delicious.”

 

Douglas tried not to betray how much Martin scenting him made his pulse accelerate. “It’s the pregnancy. My body trying to keep you around.” His voice was light, but underneath he felt as though his stomach was somersaulting. _Perhaps she’s doing backflips_ , he thought, ludicrously.

 

“Mm.” Martin inhaled again. “I’d be around anyway,” he said, but there was a breathiness to his tone that Douglas knew by now signified that Martin was less composed than he was pretending.

 

“Come here.” Douglas lightly urged him upwards and kissed him, Martin melting against him with a happy hum. Douglas’ hands roamed over Martin’s back, and Martin parted his lips, allowing Douglas to flicker his tongue inwards. Martin rubbed Douglas’ belly in soothing sweeps, and the baby inside seemed to dance in response; Douglas could feel her fluttering against his insides in time with the rhythm of Martin’s hands.

 

“Can you feel her?”

 

Martin drew away just enough to answer. “Not this evening,” he said, but he didn’t sound too worried about it. “Is she busy?”

 

“She likes this.” Douglas tipped his head sideways, silently asking Martin to scent him again.

 

Martin grinned, and moved sideways, kissing down Douglas’ jaw to just beneath his ear where the scent was strongest. He gently shifted one knee over Douglas’ thigh, and there was the touch of a possessive snarl in his inhalations. “And you?” Martin whispered. “Do you like this?”

 

Douglas gasped a breath, one hand holding the back of Martin’s head, pulling his nose more tightly in to him. “You have to ask?”

 

“I do.” Martin nipped at the sensitive skin over Douglas’ pulse point, and fire raced through Douglas’ veins.

 

“I like this.” Douglas kissed at Martin’s hair. “Very, very much.”

 

“Good.” Martin found his mouth again, kissing more intensely this time. He held Douglas tightly, his tongue seeking the Omega’s, Martin moaning softly as Douglas responded.

 

Douglas’ thoughts were dizzy, his whole focus narrowed to encompass Martin and nothing else – the television an irrelevance ignored in the background. The smell and warmth and adoration of Martin was all there was, and their kissing grew more urgent, hands roaming more than they had done at any other time since Inverness. They didn’t seem to be able to get close _enough_ , no matter how near they were.

 

At last, Douglas shuddered and pulled back enough to speak. “Upstairs?” he asked, pleading evident in his voice. He felt nothing but almost drunken relief when Martin nodded fervently – pupils blown so wide that just the barest blue of his irises encircled them.

 

“Please.”

 

Martin didn’t need to say another word. Douglas tugged him after him up the stairs, though he hesitated at the top. He turned with a teasing grin. “Your place or mine?”

 

Martin snickered a laugh. “Yours?”

 

“Fine.” Douglas drew him through his bedroom door, thanking the stars that he’d at least made the bed that morning. Martin kicked the door shut behind them, and then they were facing each other, both breathing hard. Martin took the one step needed to pace the gap between them, his hands finding Douglas’ waist. Douglas hesitated, just for a second. “You’re sure?” he asked, feeling he had to.

 

“More than I’ve ever been.” Martin looked up at him, such clear trust in his expression that it took Douglas’ breath away.

 

“Thank God,” Douglas said, and half-laughed in relief, but was cut off as Martin met him in another passionate kiss.

 

He held Martin to him, tugging the rucked T-shirt Martin wore free of his trousers, running his hands up the smooth skin underneath as he’d yearned to for so many weeks. Martin was exploring, too – he had dipped his fingers inside the stretchy waistband of Douglas’ jeans, circling the dimples above Douglas’ arse. Douglas moaned appreciation, sliding his palms downwards to grope and cup Martin’s behind.

 

“Come to bed.” Douglas walked them backwards until he could climb onto the duvet, Martin following him. The Alpha lifted his arms, and Douglas pushed off his shirt, eyes fastening immediately on the darker pink of Martin’s nipples. He couldn’t resist, and bent to lick and suck at them.

 

“Douglas…” Martin’s hand found Douglas’ nape, holding tightly. “You, too. Please.”

 

Douglas reluctantly disengaged and allowed Martin to pull his jumper off, revealing his chest and growing belly for the first time. He felt oddly shy; he’d never been an Omega that particularly gloried in the physical changes brought about by pregnancy. But the look on Martin’s face as he greedily drank in the sight of his Omega assuaged the incipient worry; Martin’s eyes were distinctly covetous, staring down at Douglas as though he’d unwrapped a birthday present that he’d waited years to receive. “So beautiful,” Martin breathed, and Douglas wasn’t even sure if Martin knew he’d spoken aloud.

 

Wordlessly he reached for Martin’s belt; Martin understood and made short work of stepping out of his trousers. Douglas tucked his knees and lifted his hips so he could do the same, and Martin slid onto the bed to join him.

 

The feel of Martin’s body against him, skin to skin at last, made Douglas pant with a longing he couldn’t remember experiencing for years. “Kiss me,” he begged, and Martin complied at once, peppering Douglas’ face and neck with adoring brushes of lips that made Douglas feel as if he were a god being worshipped. He reached for Martin’s knee, drawing his leg over his thighs as he’d longed to in the lounge, and Martin rocked against his hip, pressing what felt like a promising erection into his side.

 

“I want you, please, please…” Martin’s hot breath tickled against Douglas’ ear.

 

Douglas turned onto his side, his stomach curving between them so Martin moulded himself into a crescent shape around it, now pressing his cock against the cushioned firmness of Douglas’ belly. Inside him, the baby fluttered again, and between the twin pressures of Martin without and their child within, Douglas felt more securely held than he ever had in his life.

 

“How do you want me?” he murmured, and dipped his head to scent Martin, the smell of his Alpha filling his every sense.

 

Martin looked uncertain for the first time. “However you’d like.” He gently brushed the hair away from Douglas’ temple. “However it’s comfortable.”

 

Douglas considered. “From behind?” he suggested, trying not to be distracted by the feeling of Martin rhythmically rocking into his stomach. “You can probably get the closest that way.”

 

Martin considered, his hands moving to stroke tenderly at Douglas’ arse. “Can I still kiss you like that?”

 

Douglas smiled, heat burning inside him, his own cock now straining to attention at the anticipation of what they were about to do. “Yes,” he said. “If I turn my head.”

 

“Then… yes. Please.” Martin moved back just a fraction to let Douglas roll over. “Do we need anything?” he asked, wriggling out of his underwear. Douglas regretted that from this angle he couldn’t fully appreciate the view of Martin totally nude, but the sensation of Martin urging his boxers down over his hips soon made him forget his fleeting thought.

 

“Lube’s… bedside table –“ Douglas gasped as Martin pressed up behind him, his cock nestling automatically between Douglas’ cheeks. He heard Martin fumbling with the drawers and a second later, the Alpha had insinuated a newly slippery hand softly between them, rubbing little circles around Douglas’ entrance. Douglas tried to breathe steadily, the tide of rising excitement at the sensation almost more pleasurable than he could bear.

 

“Good?” Martin asked, his nose finding Douglas’ scent gland again. He didn’t wait for a reply, inhaling strongly as he realised the advantage of the position they were in where scenting was concerned. “Oh, oh, _Douglas_ …”

 

“So good.” Douglas gave up his efforts to contain his anticipation and panted, arching his neck and stroking at his cock, hard and wet in his hand as Martin pressed a finger slowly inside him, moving in and out. “ _So_ good…”

 

“That’s it…” Martin hesitated, inexperience showing. “Is that – are you ready for another?”

 

“Yes – two –“ Douglas groaned at the feeling as he was stretched, rocking his hips in time with Martin’s thrusts. “I won’t need much prep… pregnancy makes – makes this – easier –“

 

Martin was kissing and nipping at his neck, the junction of his nape and shoulder; electrifying little bites and touches of lips that Douglas thought might send him out of his mind. “I’ve got you,” Martin breathed. “You’re – mine?” There was just the hint of a question in the statement.

 

Douglas cried out as Martin’s probing fingers brushed against his heat gland. “Yours,” he half-sobbed, vulnerability be damned. “Now, please, now – can’t – wait –“

 

“Yes – Douglas –“ Martin withdrew and lined himself up, his fringe tickling Douglas’ neck as he bent to watch what he was doing. He penetrated Douglas in a gentle drive, moving slowly inwards in a toe-curling sensation of filling pressure, like water creeping up the edge of a bucket until it was ready to overflow. Douglas felt as if his pleasure was spilling out around them both as Martin buried himself inside, gasping adoration into Douglas’ ear while his hand found Douglas’ cock to stroke.

 

“Is that -?” Martin was barely coherent, but Douglas understood.

 

“Yes – move, you can move.” Douglas bucked his hips, the swell of his stomach hindering him slightly.

 

Martin thrust for the first time, a whimper of bliss falling from his lips as he evidently felt the sparking rush of it, and together they found a rhythm, rocking back and forth so Douglas’ cock slipped deliciously to and fro in Martin’s hand. He fucked the circle of Martin’s fist, the fullness in his passage where Martin pressed inside driving him to even greater heights of ecstasy. “You alright?” he managed to gasp out, after a few minutes, and Martin answered him with a moan that Douglas could only take as enthusiastic agreement.

 

Several bliss-soaked moments later, Martin succeeded in finding words again. “I – oh Douglas, I have to – have to –“ He had sped up, his hips pistoning more quickly, balls slapping against Douglas’ backside as he strove to push still deeper. His hand around Douglas was shaking – or perhaps it was Douglas quivering. Douglas couldn’t tell anymore.

 

“I want you to,” Douglas breathed, harshly. “I want you to come inside me. Come on. Please.”

 

“But you –“

 

“Don’t – don’t worry about me.” Douglas twisted his head, captured Martin in a desperate kiss. “Come. Want you to come.” He worried lightly at Martin’s lower lip with his teeth, eliciting another of the possessive snarls from Martin that he was beginning to adore. “Come on – come –“

 

“Oh God… now –“ Martin threw his head back with a cry as he climaxed, and Douglas was abruptly assailed with a clear memory of the time they’d done this first – the hot splashes inside him evoking the crystal-clear recollection of him riding Martin in Scotland, of seeing the captain’s face transform as he found release inside another person for the first time in his entire life. Martin shuddered violently behind him, clutching Douglas so firmly it was almost painful.

 

Douglas covered Martin’s hand with his own, speeding the shaky strokes on his cock once Martin had recovered a little. Martin kissed him again and again, muttering “You now. Please. You.”

 

It didn’t take much – Douglas had been almost there himself just from the sensation of being so thoroughly taken, and the memory of what they’d shared during his unscheduled heat had nearly pushed him over too. A few seconds of fevered panting later and he was spilling into Martin’s palm with a roar, the white-hot ecstasy of it stealing his vision and blotting all coherent thought from his brain.

 

When he came to, a few formless moments afterwards, he found that Martin had rolled him into a cosy embrace, their skin sliding stickily together, almost too warm to be comfortable. Even so, Douglas found he didn’t want to let go; he exhaled a long, relaxed breath.

 

“I love you.”

 

Douglas’ head jerked up. “What – what did you say?”

 

Martin met his eyes, nothing but sincerity there. “I love you.”

 

“Oh.” Douglas’ brain reeled, the admission almost too much to take in. After a second, he found the words to reply. “You know I feel the same, don’t you?”

 

Martin relaxed a bit, the modicum of tension he’d been clinging onto ebbing away. “I hoped so.”

 

“Well, I do.” Douglas kissed his nose and let out a steady, blissed-out breath. “Hmm..." he sighed, languor stealing over him. "Stay the night?”

 

Martin chuckled. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.” It wasn’t like him to joke about their living arrangements – but it made Douglas happy to hear him doing so.

 

“You know what I mean,” Douglas grinned.

 

Martin answered with a smile. “I’ll stay.” He kissed Douglas’ temple, and Douglas reached to draw a blanket over them both, feeling the delicious slight soreness that meant he had been extremely well-fucked. “Wouldn’t be anywhere but here.”

 

“Good.” Douglas nosed into Martin’s neck, breathed in, and let his eyes slide shut.


	21. Φ

* * *

  

_Week 32:_

_“…Your baby has definite sleep-and-wake cycles, but she probably sleeps about 70 percent of the time. Ultrasounds reveal that sometime between 32 weeks and 36 weeks babies develop the ability to dream…”_

 

* * *

 

Douglas was uncomfortable. He cursed whoever had designed his expensive kitchen; _who_ had thought it was a good idea to install the oven so close to the floor? With a grunt, he positioned his legs wider apart and leant downwards to extract the mince pies he’d just baked. As he bent down, the baby inside him kicked indignantly.

 

“I know, I know,” Douglas grumbled, straightening up. “Sorry for squashing you.” He looked for a clear bit of worktop to deposit the pies onto, and dumped them with a sigh onto the chopping board.

 

Behind him, he heard Martin come in. “Oh,” Martin said, sounding surprised. “I’d have done that for you.”

 

Douglas gritted his teeth. “It’s fine. I’m not an invalid.” He turned round, holding his back.

 

Martin held up his hands. “We’ve had this discussion,” he said, clearly trying to sound reasonable. “I know you’re not incapable.”

 

Douglas sighed, and opened his arms. “Sorry,” he apologised, and allowed Martin to hug him. “Tetchy.”

 

Martin poked his side lightly. “Don’t I know it?” He kissed Douglas’ neck. “Is it the thought of the Knapp-Shappeys visiting?”

 

Douglas rubbed at his brow. “Partly.”

 

“If it’s too much, we can cancel.” Martin grabbed a spatula and began carefully levering the mince pies onto a wire rack.

 

“No, it’s fine.” Douglas sank into a kitchen chair, trying to ignore his rather achy back. “We haven’t seen either of them for ages. And you know Arthur’s excited about today.”

 

“Excited is an understatement,” Martin replied, wryly. “He texted me eight times while I was working yesterday. Eight. The man whose stuff I was shifting commented that my business sounded like it was booming.”

 

“Ha,” Douglas snorted, but noticed the curl of Martin’s lip, even in profile. “What is it?”

 

Martin turned momentarily, trying to smile. “Oh, nothing.”

 

“Hey.” Douglas pushed himself upright again, and crossed the kitchen to wrap his arms round Martin’s waist from behind. “Tell me.”

 

Martin shrugged. “My _business_ ,” he said absently. “It was the way the client assumed that my business has always been… that. Removals.” He paused, then shook his head. “It’s stupid. Shouldn’t bother me.”

 

“But it does.” Something tugged at Douglas’ insides, the remnants of the guilt that he’d stolen Martin’s career.

 

Martin could obviously hear the shame in Douglas’ voice, as he wriggled round and put aside the spatula. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” A look of longing flitted over his face.

 

“You miss flying,” Douglas said, and knew it was stating the obvious, though Martin tried to bat the comment away.

 

“Well, don’t you? ...It’s fine. This – it’s all fine.”

 

Douglas let his arms fall to his sides and stepped back, leaning against the wall, his mind churning. Martin went back to arranging the pies. After a long, long silence, Douglas spoke again. “If we were bonded…” He hesitated.

 

“What?” Martin spun around, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

 

Douglas shrugged. “Well, if we were, then flying would be back on the table.”

 

Frowning, Martin folded his arms. “You don’t want to bond.”

 

“Who said that?”

 

“You did.”

 

Douglas sighed. “We’ve been through this. I wasn’t going to bond with you during your first heat with an Omega.” He knotted his fingers together. “…I’m too old for you.”

 

“Who says?” Martin raised an eyebrow.

 

“It stands to reason.” Douglas shook his head. “And I’m no good… as an Omega.” Glaring, he added, “Though if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it as fiercely as if you’d claimed that Arthur had a PhD.”

 

Martin seemed flabbergasted. “Why on earth do you think you’re not a good Omega?” He uncrossed his arms, but didn’t reach for Douglas.

 

Douglas jerked his chin angrily. “Three past bonds, remember? All broken.” To his alarm, a well of tears blurred his vision for a moment, though he held them back. “And my daughters – I couldn’t even look after them.”

 

This time Martin did tug Douglas forwards, holding his arm gently. “That’s not your fault.”

 

“There’s always blame on both sides.”

 

“It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you.”

 

“Oh, come on, Martin.” Douglas disengaged from Martin’s hand. “We both know that this –“ he gestured at his belly – “wasn’t exactly how you saw your life – your _career_ – panning out.”

 

Martin’s eyes flashed furiously. “When I have given you any indication that I’m not OK with the way things are?”

 

“Just now!” Douglas returned, indignantly. “You want to fly, and I’ve stopped you! How can you not resent me? At least partly?”

 

Martin clenched his fists. “Flying isn’t everything.” He took a deep breath. “Yes, alright, if you’d asked me a year ago, I might have disagreed with that, but not now!”

 

“No?” Uncertainty throbbed in Douglas’ voice.

 

“No.” Martin grabbed Douglas’ hands. “How could I possibly resent you, you idiot?” He chafed at Douglas’ palms with his thumbs. “You’re giving us a daughter or a son. I never thought – I never thought I’d find someone I wanted to make a family with, let alone discover they could bear to spend time in the same room as me long enough to try.” His grip on Douglas’ hands became almost bruising. “If you really do love me, like you’ve been telling me… then I’m the luckiest person in the world, no matter what I do for a living.”

 

Douglas was silent for a moment. “So… you don’t want to go back to flying?”

 

“Of course I do!” Martin flailed a frustrated hand. “But that’s not why I’d want to bond with you!”

 

“But… when you came back from Anglesey, you said you’d gone there because you couldn’t bear to be reminded of _planes_.”

 

Martin set his jaw. “I was lying.”

 

“But you’re a terrible liar.” Douglas was utterly bewildered, even more so when Martin stepped forwards again so that Douglas was crowded back against the wall, the Alpha’s eyes burning into his.

 

“I’m better than you think.” Martin clutched Douglas’ elbows. “It wasn’t planes. Everywhere I went, in Fitton – every place I saw, every road I drove – well, it’s a tiny town. It was _you_. Everywhere I went, I was reminded of you, and it was unbearable.” Martin’s breathing was harsh. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I got good at lying very fast, believe me, especially if it meant keeping my feelings from _you_.” Martin was shaking, Douglas could feel it. “And I thought I could never have you, and suddenly I could – but then Carolyn tried to force us to bond, and I had to run out of her office, away from Fitton, because – because –“ he hitched a gulp back – “I couldn’t bear the thought that we’d bond just to keep flying. That you’d do it not because you loved me, just because that way we’d keep our _jobs_.”

 

Douglas gaped, then swallowed hard. “Oh,” he said, in a small voice.

 

Martin shook him lightly. “’Oh’ indeed,” he echoed, then began to blush as he seemed to realise what he’d said moments before. “Forget it.”

 

“No!” Douglas clutched at Martin’s waist before he could retreat. “You know how I feel.”

 

Martin’s expression held a flicker of uncertainty. “You confuse me.”

 

“I’ve been an utter clot.” Douglas embraced Martin tightly, but held his gaze. “I never realised… I thought that you just wanted to fly again.”

 

“If we were to bond, that would _never_ be why. Not for me, anyway.” Utter sincerity radiated from Martin, fierce as the Kebili sun, warming Douglas from the inside out.

 

“Forgive me.” Douglas rubbed circles into Martin’s back. “I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you.”

 

Martin leant forward, laying his head on Douglas’ shoulder. “I understand why you did.” He nosed against Douglas’ neck, and Douglas shivered as Martin scented him. “After what they did to you, your Alphas – especially Mel –“ there was disgust in his voice as he said her name for the first time ever. “I can’t imagine how you’ve kept going.” He pulled away a little, so Douglas could see his face, and an unexpected surge of love inside Douglas at the sight of him nearly knocked him sideways. “But – if you’ll let me – I’ll try to…” Martin’s brow wrinkled as he searched for the words. “I’ll try to be what you need.”

 

An enormous smile broke out on Douglas’ face. “You already are,” he said.

 

“Oh.” Martin looked surprised, but pleased as well. “Good.”

 

“Will you –“ Douglas hesitated as the question formed in his mind, quiet certainty filling him at last that he was making the right choice. “I mean, I know this isn’t the traditional way round, but… sod it.” He took Martin’s hand. “Excuse me not dropping to one knee, but I’d never get up with my bump, and –“ Douglas laughed, just a touch of uncharacteristic nerves in the chuckle. “ _Captain_ Martin Crieff – because you’ll always be that, to me – will you bond with me?”

 

Martin’s eyes had widened as Douglas spoke, but he barely let Douglas get to the end of the question before he replied. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

 

Delight fizzed and sparkled in Douglas’ stomach like champagne. “I love –“

 

“You, I love you –“ Martin flung himself forwards, nearly squashing Douglas against the wall to kiss him over and over.

 

Douglas laughed and laughed and kissed him back, only separating when his need to breathe became too urgent. “Steady – the baby –“

 

“Oh God, sorry –“ Martin was grinning, though, and he bent to kiss Douglas’ belly. “We’re going to be a family, the three of us,” he whispered to the bump, and kissed it again, Douglas’ hands fluttering to rest on his Alpha’s hair instinctively, holding him close.

 

Their happy bubble was interrupted by the doorbell ringing, and Martin straightened up reluctantly. “That’ll be Arthur and Carolyn.”

 

“Better let them in, then.” Douglas tugged off his apron, straightening his hair where Martin’s eager hands had ruffled it. “One thing – do we tell them?”

 

“I want to if you do.” Martin’s slightly shy grin made Douglas' feet itch irrationally to dance.

 

“Let’s.”

 

* * *

  

“Bonded? You’re going to bond?” Arthur’s excited voice was so high-pitched that Douglas thought that only dogs might hear it.

 

“Yes.” Martin reached to take Douglas’ hand where they were sitting, side-by-side, on the settee.

 

“Congratulations!” Carolyn sounded genuinely pleased for them. “I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to tell us.”

 

Douglas frowned. “I asked Martin literally two minutes before you arrived.”

 

“Oh!” Carolyn shook her head. “Well, about time, then.” Douglas distinctly heard her mutter ‘idiots’ under her breath, but he was too happy to care.

 

“So when can you come back to MJN? After the baby’s born?” Arthur was speaking through a mouthful of mince pie.

 

Martin glanced at Douglas sideways, who nodded at him. “I’d like to, yes.”

 

“Brilliant!” Arthur sprayed the carpet with crumbs. A thought seemed to occur to him, and he turned to glance at Carolyn. “Oh, but what’ll Herc do?”

 

“Actually –“ Douglas interrupted, before Carolyn could reply. “I haven’t had time to talk about this with Martin yet, but –“ He squeezed Martin’s hand. “I’m not coming back.”

 

“You’re not?” Martin’s focus was all on Douglas, and Douglas looked calmly into the clear blue eyes he adored.

 

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t want to leave her - or him, whichever it turns out to be. Not with anyone else.” He clasped a hand to his stomach, the quiet devotion that had grown over the past seven months burning steadily inside him. “Not after losing Emily and Verity.”

 

“If you’re sure…”

 

“I’m sure.” Douglas squeezed Martin’s palm, and felt the answering squeeze that meant Martin was on board. He turned back to the Knapp-Shappeys. “Sorry, Carolyn.”

 

She looked reluctant, but her nod was understanding. “I had half-expected as much.”

 

“We’ll miss you, Douglas.” Arthur’s face was sad. “I mean – Skip, it’ll be great to have you back, but –“

 

“But Herc can stay on, this way,” Carolyn reminded him.

 

“I suppose so.” Arthur stared at the floor, but as the news sunk in, he relaxed a bit. “Herc is really nice.” He gave Martin a slightly watery smile. “You’ll love flying with him, Skip.”

 

“I’m sure I will,” Martin said. “Actually – Douglas and I had something we wanted to ask you…”

 

“Something that we hope might make you feel a bit better,” Douglas added, Martin’s fingers tight in his. “You’ll still see an awful lot of me, even if I'm no longer piloting, because – well –“ He looked at Martin, who was grinning. “Would you like to be our baby’s godfather?”

 

“Godfather?” Arthur’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Really?”

 

Martin nodded. “We couldn’t think of anyone we’d rather have.”

 

“That’s – well, that’s brilliant!” Arthur’s smile was big enough to stretch from shoulder to shoulder, never mind ear to ear.

 

Douglas laughed. “Funny,” he commented. “That’s exactly what we thought you might say.” 

 

“When’s she coming?” Arthur bounced in his chair. “When to I get to meet her?”

 

“Or him,” Martin reminded him.

 

“I don’t mind which!”

 

“Nor do we,” Douglas said, rubbing his belly. The baby was kicking hard, as if she wanted to be part of the conversation too. “You’ll have to be patient just a little bit longer – hopefully six more weeks to go, or even as much as ten weeks if I’m late. So you can look forward to getting him or her as a belated Christmas present in February.”

 

“I can’t wait.” Arthur hugged himself with glee.

 

Martin glanced at Douglas, and they shared an ecstatic smile. “Neither can we,” Martin said, and leant to kiss Douglas' cheek.


	22. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stunning gorgeous fluffy art for the end of the chapter is from the amazing blog of clairedrawsairdraws - thank you so much. Do go and check out her beautiful work - clairedrawsairdraws.tumblr.com :)

* * *

 

  _Week 39:_

_“…your baby is plump now; a full 15 percent of her body is made up of fat that will help her regulate her body temperature. She probably weighs between 7 and 8 pounds and is about 21 inches long if she's an average-size baby…”_

* * *

 

"You're sure you can walk from here?"

 

Douglas rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Martin." He levered himself awkwardly out of the car, his stomach getting in the way. "Granted I'm waddling rather than walking, these days, but I think even I can manage a third of a mile’s stroll down a flat canal path to the restaurant." He reached for Martin's hand. 

 

Martin allowed the clasp, and the worry lines in his forehead smoothed a little, though the anxious purse of his lips remained. "You'll tell me if we're walking too fast."

 

Douglas laughed, and squeezed his Alpha's hand in reassurance. "You'll know if you're going too fast, because I will have been left behind." He huffed as they climbed the three steps up to the waterside. "You wouldn't leave me, I know you wouldn't."

 

Martin chuckled, and relaxed into Douglas' side. "Well, maybe not on Valentine's Day," he teased. "Any other day of the year, though..."

 

"Idiot."

 

"The same to you."

 

They ambled companionably along, Martin occasionally pausing to point out features of the scenery - ostensibly to admire the view, but Douglas knew that Martin was subtly allowing him to get his breath back without wounding his pride. His heart glowed at the secret knowledge, and he wrapped an arm around Martin's back; Martin reciprocated almost immediately. The pressure on Douglas' lumbar region seemed to set off an odd squeezing feeling, a cramp winding round Douglas' hips under Martin's arm, and he concealed a slight wince under cover of pointing out the restaurant ahead, lights warm and welcoming in the gloaming.

 

* * *

 

Douglas didn't really taste the meal, delicious though it was. He managed to keep replying to Martin's chatty conversation, just about absorbing the thread of the remarks: excitement at a return to the skies, the health of Martin's mother, the _sixteen_ pairs of bootees Arthur had arranged to be delivered that morning, the tiny hand-made cardigan Carolyn had gruffly given to them when she'd popped over three days before and had refused to accept any thanks for...

 

"Douglas?"

 

"Mm."

 

" _Douglas_." Martin reached across the table and stilled Douglas' hands, which had been picking his paper napkin to shreds without him even realising. "What's the matter?"

 

Douglas opened his mouth to try and answer, but had to bite his lip instead as a stronger cramp curled through his lower back. He exhaled slowly through his nose, then shook his head, a rueful grin spreading over his face. "Have you finished your dessert?"

 

Martin looked utterly bemused. "Yes. Didn't you like yours?" His thumb stroked the back of Douglas' palm. 

 

"I did." Douglas pushed his chair back. "I think we need to get the bill and go home, I'm afraid." Martin's face didn't lose its puzzlement. "Sorry to cut Valentine's short, but I need a bath."

 

"A bath?" It took a couple of seconds, but at last, Martin's eyes flew wide. "Oh. _Oh_."

 

"Precisely." Douglas rubbed his back, amused when Martin shot up out of his chair, attracting the attention of a waiter, who hurried over, nearly tripping over another courting couple as he did so. 

 

"The bill, please, quick quick quick," Martin gabbled, then seemed to rethink and flung a fistful of notes from his pocket at the baffled man. 

 

"Will sir require any change?"

 

"No!" Martin grabbed Douglas' arm and began hustling him out. "Hospital, come on..."

 

Douglas glanced back over his shoulder, entertained. "Martin, I think you just gave him about £50 too much."

 

"I don't care!"

 

"Martin, Martin - calm down." Douglas slipped deftly out of Martin's clutch as they emerged onto the towpath. "We've got hours yet."

 

"But - but -" Martin cast wildly around. "The car's so far away!" He wrung his hands. "I knew I should have parked it closer, oh -"

 

Douglas stepped forwards and distracted Martin by kissing him, holding his hips tightly. "Shh," he murmured, and felt Martin quiver against him. "You know walking is one of the best things I can do, at this point. It'll move things along."

 

"The book... did say that."

 

"There you are, then." Douglas pulled away, though was pleased when Martin groped to hold his hand. "Let's go home, and see what happens."

 

* * *

 

"Don't you think we should go to hospital now?" Martin fretted, for what felt like the fortieth time. 

 

Douglas didn't reply for a minute, too busy inhaling and exhaling the pain in his back away. He panted for a few moments until the contraction finally dissipated, sinking back into the now-lukewarm water of the bathtub with a sigh of relief. He passed a hand over his forehead. "Martin, no," he said, trying to sound firm. "You know you only rang them twenty minutes ago, and the midwives told us to wait at home until the pains were closer together."

 

"But, but..." Martin was kneeling by the bath, his shirtsleeves wet to the elbows from where he kept leaning in to rub Douglas' back. "I'm timing them, and they're lasting longer..."

 

"Are they five minutes apart yet?" Douglas raised an eyebrow.

 

"No, but..." Martin trailed off, gnawing his lip worriedly.

 

"There you are, then." Douglas sighed. "It takes hours, you know it does. They don't call it labour for nothing." His eyes softened, remembering his own anxiety when he'd been giving birth to Verity, fourteen years before. _She'd been born in February too - it would be her birthday next week -_

 

An ache almost as sharp as the labour pains jabbed his chest at her absence from him, at the loss. Shaking his head, he reached for Martin, needing closeness more than he had since they'd left the restaurant, five hours before. "Get in the bath with me."

 

Martin blinked. "I can't do that!"

 

"Why not?" Douglas slid forward, trying to put the nagging memories of his missing daughters from his mind. "You know there's room for both of us." A thought struck him, and he waggled his eyebrows devilishly. "Especially given what we got up to in here two weeks ago."

 

Martin waved the flirtatious tone away. "I know there's room, but I need to be ready at a moment's notice. I can't be dripping wet and driving you to the hospital at the same time!"

 

"I can't go to hospital wet either," Douglas pointed out. "So in the time I'll take to dry off, you can do the same too, can't you?" He rubbed his stomach, feeling the baby flex peevishly, barely able to move inside him now she was so big. He adopted his most pleading expression, which was only half artifice. " I really, really need you," he begged, scooting even closer to the taps. "Please."

 

"Oh, fine." Martin finally gave in and shrugged off his clothes, while Douglas topped up the hot water again. Just as Martin slid in behind him, another contraction began, and Douglas tensed as the pain blossomed through his coccyx and outwards. Martin tugged Douglas back, cradling him in his arms as Douglas huffed through the breathing exercises he'd been practicing. "I've got you," Martin murmured, as the pain crescendoed, making a hint of a moan slip into Douglas' exhalations. "Shh, it's ok, I'm here..."

 

Blindly, Douglas turned his head sideways, nuzzling upwards against Martin's neck. "P-please," he stuttered, and Martin slipped lower, holding Douglas' legs tight between his own as Douglas lay against his chest. 

 

"That's it, that's it." Martin soothed the last of the contraction away and allowed Douglas to scent him properly. "Is that better?"

 

"Mm-hmm." Douglas settled back, not caring about how cramped the space around him was now. Martin was taking up all the remaining room in the bath, encircling him, and that was unlooked-for perfection, the comfort Douglas had so badly needed. 

 

His new relaxation was interrupted by a peeved tut from Martin behind him. "I can't reach my stopwatch from here."

 

Douglas snickered at the comedy of the situation. "There's a clock on the radio that’s perfectly visible over there," he pointed out.

 

"Yes, but now I can't make notes… Don't laugh - _Douglas_ \- how will I keep a record if – did you just _splash_ me?"

 

"Yes, because you're very funny." Douglas captured both of Martin's hands and wrapped them warmly round his rotund belly, covering them with his own.

 

"I'm trying to look after you!" Martin grumbled, resting his chin into Douglas' hair. "Why do you have to make it so bloody difficult?"

 

Douglas tipped his head, allowing his scent to reach Martin's nose. As he'd hoped, on instinct, Martin bent forward and inhaled approvingly. "You're doing a wonderful job, under very trying circumstances," Douglas reassured.

 

"Is that your new name?" Martin replied, but he sounded calmer now, succumbing to the spell of his Omega's pheromones. "Trying Circumstances?"

 

Douglas chuckled, and allowed Martin to brush a kiss tenderly to his cheek. "I fully expect it to be on my gravestone when the time comes."

 

He felt Martin's arms tighten around him. "You're a pest."

 

Douglas smiled, even as the pain began to return, bending his knees in readiness to accept it. "I love you too."

 

* * *

 

“Come on, we have to go.” Martin was dressed again, but Douglas didn’t really notice; he was too busy gripping the sides of the bath with knuckles blanched and teeth gritted. There was a bass groaning coming from somewhere, echoing hollowly around the bathroom, and it was only as the latest contraction finally ebbed away again that Douglas realised it had been emanating from deep inside his own chest.

 

He jumped as Martin wrapped an arm around his back, the Alpha bending to take the plug out and murmur in his ear. “Douglas, please, please – stand up.”

 

“I can’t.” A bolt of fear seemed to have lodged itself unreasonably inside Douglas’ heart. “I don’t want to.”

 

“You have to.” Martin’s voice was pleading, and he urged Douglas upright somehow, Douglas’ knees shaking. “I know you can do it, come on.”

 

“I want to stay here.” Douglas leant into Martin. “I…” He knew, some distant part of him knew, that he wasn’t being logical. That hospital was a good idea, that it was time. But still his knees quaked, and his shallow breathing fed the adrenaline coursing through his veins as rapidly as the water now racing down the plughole between his feet.

 

“Come on.” Martin was tugging at him, but the motions were somehow gentle. Douglas allowed himself to be helped out of the slippery tub and enveloped in a towel, still warm from the radiator. It felt like being hugged, and Douglas fought his instincts and closed his eyes and let Martin dry him from head to foot, pausing only after a few minutes to let another contraction rattle him to his bones. Martin held his hands and permitted Douglas to push into him, not complaining when Douglas’ grip became bruisingly fierce. “Shh, shh,” Martin whispered, propping Douglas back upright and helping him on with his clothes. “You’ll be OK.”

 

“I don’t want to go…” Douglas breathed, his forehead beading sweat in the steamy bathroom, his insides cramping, feeling too tight. There was a building pressure somewhere low and deep inside him, as if tons of water were being held back by a too-fragile dam, and the sensation – at once distantly familiar and strange – was making him feel something akin to panic. “I don’t know if I can get down the stairs.”

 

“You can.” Martin was firm, his earlier flurrying anxiety replaced with a steely determination Douglas couldn’t remember ever seeing in his former captain. “I’ll help you. We’ll go together.”

 

“Together.” Douglas clung to the word, and they cautiously negotiated the landing and staircase, with Martin’s sturdy arms supporting Douglas as the Omega gritted his teeth and bore it as best he could.

 

* * *

 

“It shouldn’t be too long now, - I’ll just get one of my superiors to come and examine you as well, Mr Crieff.” The midwife withdrew her hand from Douglas’ vaginal passage, making him wince in discomfort.

 

“He’s Douglas _Richardson_. I’m Martin Crieff.” Martin’s indignation took Douglas aback, having barely registered the woman’s error himself.

 

She flushed a little. “My apologies, I haven’t had long to look at your file.”

 

“We’re not bonded,” Martin said, and stepped protectively back to Douglas’ side, taking his hand.

 

“Yet.” Douglas squeezed Martin’s palm, and felt him relax a little. “I think another one’s coming – please –“

 

“Of course, of course –“ Martin fumbled for the gas and air as the nurse hurried out of the room, and passed the mouthpiece to Douglas just as the pain broke over him like a wave. “Breathe, steady, that’s it, good…”

 

Douglas tried to fixate his attention on Martin’s words rather than tensing up. “Bugger. This,” he gasped out, but Martin just shook his head and kept talking Douglas through the breathing exercises that he’d been helping him to rehearse for the previous three months.

 

It seemed to take an age before the pain wore away, and Douglas slumped back against the pillows as the agony retreated, feeling limp with fatigue. “How much longer?” he moaned, and Martin bent to kiss his forehead.

 

“You’re amazing,” Martin whispered, and Douglas shook his head. “You are.”

 

“What if I can’t do it?” Douglas hated himself for asking the question, but he had no energy left to fight the anxiety.

 

“You’ve done it before, my Douglas, you know you have –“

 

“And what was it for?” Douglas’ cheeks felt damp, though he couldn’t imagine why. A new pain was already starting to build, and he groaned. “They’re gone, my babies,” he half-slurred. The gas and air was making his head spin, and he shut his eyes, trying to block the room out.

 

“Hey.” Martin’s voice was stern, and his hand slid to grip Douglas’ nape fiercely – lack of a bonding bite there notwithstanding. “You’re doing it for _her_ now, you know you are.” He tugged Douglas’ hand to cover his stomach, feeling the bump, now stretched taut. “Or for him.”

 

“Yes.” Douglas arched his neck and pushed Martin’s hand away – he couldn’t take the touch to his stomach just then. “For – for him-or-her –“ he managed, and panted hard, resisting the urge to roar as the fire at his hips flared searingly for the thousandth time.

 

There was a brisk knock at the door and the junior midwife from moments’ before popped her head through. “Can we come in?”

 

Martin nodded, answering for both of them – Douglas was too lost in his own pain to assent. At the sight of Elise’s familiar face Douglas just about registered dim relief – here was someone he knew, someone he trusted.

 

“You’re doing very well, Douglas.” Elise pulled on a pair of latex gloves and patted him on the knee.

 

“He’s a hero.” Martin’s words were warm, and Douglas blinked upwards in surprise.

 

“If that last contraction’s finished, I’m afraid I’d like to examine you again.” Elise leant forwards over the end of the bed.

 

Douglas grunted, the now constant ache inside making him clench his fists in discomfort. “Feels – worse now –“

 

Elise nodded, and slipped her gloved fingers up and inside him. Douglas threw his head back and groaned, Martin gripping his shoulder in silent sympathy. “I’m not surprised,” Elise said. “Ten centimetres.”

 

“Need to push.” The urge had been building inside Douglas for the past ten minutes, but he’d tamped down on it as hard as he could, not believing it possible.

 

“What – how?” Martin seemed flustered. “We arrived 40 minutes ago, and he was only at six centimetres then – it’s that fast?”

 

“It can be.” Elise stripped off her gloves, and went to wash her hands.

 

“But – his waters haven’t even broken yet –“

 

“Shush –“ Douglas growled, and gave in to the age-old instinct flooding him. “I need – oh –“ He gave up on words and grabbed for his knees.

 

At the admonishment, Martin visibly shook himself, and helped Douglas as he leant up. “Come on then,” he said, firmness returning. “Push.”

 

“Good man,” Elise murmured, and Douglas’ universe narrowed to the single point low in his belly where he could feel their baby shifting. “Push, Douglas. You can do it.”

 

* * *

 

“What was that?”

 

Martin had clearly heard the splashing noise, but he couldn’t move to look as Douglas was leaning heavily onto his arm, the Alpha supporting his Omega’s back as Douglas heaved and strained.

 

“Waters going, don’t worry –“ Elise’s voice was brisk, but somehow still retained the gruff kindness they’d grown to associate with her over the past eight months. “The head’s born, Douglas – want to feel?”

 

Douglas stretched blindly down, touching the wet, slippery skin of the half-born child they’d made. He gasped, and on instinct turned to Martin, eyes wide instead of screwed shut for the first time in the last twenty minutes. “Feel,” he choked out, but then moaned as another contraction reared up inside him.

 

Dimly he felt the twisting movement of rotating shoulders, but didn’t register much else beyond the urgent need to bear down one final time as hard as he could. He clenched his jaw and strained, and with another sodden gush he felt their baby slip free at long, long last, to a triumphant shout from Martin and a flurry of towels from the two attendants.

 

“What is it? What is it?” Douglas gasped out as the first indignant howls split the air, and Martin leant both to look and to cut the cord with Elise’s proffered scissors, tears suddenly streaming down his face.

 

“I told you,” Martin blurted, words almost indistinguishable from his own joyful sobs and their baby's cries as Elise lifted the tiny body straight up onto Douglas’ chest. “I knew it! It’s Skye. Baby Skye.”

 

“A daughter?” Douglas was dizzy, the room blurring as he gazed down into the red-white squalling face burrowing against him. “Really?”

 

“Really.” Martin buried his nose into Douglas’ hair.

 

“I – Oh, I don’t –“ Douglas didn’t know how to express himself, what to say. He wanted to let out howls of his own, of exhaustion and joy combined, of adoration of the miniature being he and Martin had somehow made, of love for the Alpha pressed into his side - but all he could do was take a shuddering breath, exhale slowly, and say “Hello, there. Hello, darling…”

 

She quietened a little at last, blinking blue eyes closed and hiding herself against him. Martin sniffed into his hair, and muttered something Douglas didn’t catch.

 

“What did you say?” The two midwives were busying themselves in the background, and Douglas barely noticed Elise administering the injection that would encourage the placenta’s delivery. His attention was split perfectly in two, between Martin and Skye.

 

Martin inhaled deeply, clearly trying to master himself. “I said I love you.” He drew back, and met Douglas’ eyes before his gaze fastened hungrily onto the little bundle Douglas held. “Both of you.”

 

“Come here,” Douglas sighed out, and let Martin kiss him, Martin’s hand fluttering to rest delicately on the towelling bump that concealed their daughter.

 

The motion – innocuous though it was – ignited a spark of the earlier fear in Douglas’ chest, to his dismay. He unconsciously held Skye tighter, and she squeaked in displeasure. It was all too familiar – this – a girl, all this love, and the surely inevitable loss to follow –

 

The junior midwife had stepped quietly over, holding the tiniest name band that either of them had ever seen, a much smaller twin of Douglas’ own wrist band bearing his medical details and identity. “Happy birthday, little one,” she said, smiling, obviously unaware of the turmoil beginning to twist inside Douglas’ stomach. “Do we have a name for this brand-new person?”

 

Martin beamed, pride evident in the straightening of his shoulders – an attitude that Douglas had previously only seen him adopt when showing GERTI off or letting people know that he was a _captain_. “She’s called Skye Wendy Richardson.”

 

“Crieff, you mean.” Douglas stroked Skye’s back, still trying to fight off the illogical distress.

 

Martin shook his head. “She gets your name, Douglas.”

 

“But…” Nothing was making sense. “I’m not the Alpha. You are.” Douglas frowned.

 

Martin slid a hand up Douglas’ shoulders and gripped the back of Douglas’ neck, firm enough to reassure, not so much as to hurt. “She’s yours _and_ mine. Sod what society expects.” Something in Douglas’ disbelieving expression seemed to perturb him; he crouched so that he was at the same level as Douglas, steadily meeting his gaze. “She’s ours. I won’t have it any other way.”

 

“Skye Richardson,” Douglas repeated. His heart fluttered and he had the odd sensation of something blooming inside him again – except that now it wasn’t pain, it was exquisite happiness. “It has… a nice ring to it.”

 

“I’ll write it on her name band,” the young midwife said, smiling at them both – unnoticed, as they only had eyes for each other.

 

“You hold her, love.” Douglas tucked the towel more securely round their daughter, gently lifting her.

 

Martin bit his lip, looking simultaneously terrified and eager. “You’re sure?” He reached out his hands.

 

“Of course I’m sure.” Douglas handed her over, watching while Martin balanced Skye as tenderly in the crook of his arm as if she were the most precious cargo he’d ever been entrusted with. Martin gazed down at their daughter, apparently lost in wonderment.

 

“I love you,” Douglas whispered, loud enough so that only Martin could hear him. Martin’s eyes flicked to his; he smiled and came to perch next to Douglas on the bed, Douglas shuffling gingerly sideways to make room.

 

“Perfect,” Martin said, leaning lightly into Douglas’ side, so Douglas could brush a finger against Skye’s little hand where it protruded slightly from the towels.

 

“She is, isn’t she?” Douglas was enraptured.

 

“I meant _this_ ,” Martin corrected. “Us. The three of us.”

 

Douglas didn’t even have to consider his reply. “Utter perfection,” he agreed, and tucked himself cosily under Martin’s free arm, to better adore their daughter together.


	23. Ψ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings again for mild blood/biting for this chapter.

Even feeling distinctly ropey, closeted in the downstairs loo, Douglas retained enough of his wits to be amazed at the wall-penetrating capabilities of Arthur’s voice. He could hear Arthur babbling to Martin as clearly as if the steward had been standing right next to him (although thank goodness he wasn’t – Douglas had never in his adult life permitted anyone apart from his Alpha to witness him throwing up, and he wasn’t about to start now). A fresh tsunami of pre-heat nausea assailed him, and he tried to push it away by listening to the conversation taking place at the front door.

 

“…got everything?” Martin was asking.

 

“Of course we have!” Arthur was evidently almost pinging off the walls with glee at the prospect of borrowing his goddaughter overnight for the first time. Not just overnight, but for _three whole days_ , as he’d ecstatically exclaimed on arriving to pick her up ten minutes before, so loudly Douglas thought the next street might have heard him.

 

“If there are any problems…” Martin sounded slightly nervous, and Douglas couldn’t blame him. Not because either of them doubted Arthur – the boy might have the exuberance of a puppy, but where Skye was concerned he guarded her as tenderly as the most faithful watchdog. It was more the prospect of being apart from their beloved daughter for so long, even when it was for the happiest of reasons.

 

“There won’t be problems!” A hopping noise, as if Arthur were bouncing. “We’ll have a lovely time, won’t we, Skye?” Douglas could hear her chuckling, the burbling laughter kindling the low-burn of adoration that was now a permanent flame in Douglas’ heart.

 

“You can call anytime if you need us,” Martin promised. “On the phone, I mean,” he added, hastily, to Douglas’ relief. The prospect of Arthur turning up mid-heat was not one that he’d relish.

 

“We’ll be fine.” Arthur was clearly making an effort to sound very adult. “And Mum’s around, so no need to worry.”

 

“Oh. Oh, well, that’s… good.” Douglas could detect the glimmer of relief in Martin’s voice, and – in spite of a renewed urge to retch – he grinned.

 

“And Herc’s staying, too – he’s got two sons, you know – so there’ll be plenty of Mum-and-Dad-experts around if I need to ask anything.”

 

 _Herc’s staying_? Douglas had suspected for months that Carolyn’s uncharacteristic coyness regarding Martin’s future first officer might point to an unparalleled opportunity for mockery. Douglas’ grin broadened, and he considered making a note of the fact on his phone. After his last experience with heat’s irritating ability to wipe his memory, he was loath to allow any details to slip his mind this time. He shoved the idea away as unworthy, just as someone tentatively rapped on the toilet door.

 

“Douglas?” Martin called cautiously. “Arthur’s just about to leave with Skye. Want to say goodbye?”

 

All thoughts of a Knapp-Shappey/Shipwright dalliance fled Douglas’ brain. He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he called, voice muffled with the surge of emotion he always experienced when contemplating relinquishing his daughter to someone else’s care – even temporarily. He cracked open the door, not letting Arthur see him – thankfully Arthur seemed content to hang back and allow him his privacy. Martin was there, holding Skye upright in his arms, and Douglas’ eyes were drawn straight to her.

 

At the sight of him, she beamed, gummily displaying an incomplete set of teeth. “Da-!” she commanded, imperiously, and held out her arms.

 

Douglas swept her up from Martin, embracing her, feeling her fingers catching strands of his hair to tug enthusiastically. His throat was thick, but it wasn’t the nausea, this time. “You be good for Uncle Arthur, won’t you?” he murmured. “You look after him. And he’ll look after you.”

 

“Of course I will!” Arthur’s cheery voice echoed from around the corner.

 

Douglas’ eyes were swimming, but he battled back the upsurge of feeling. “It’s just three days,” he said, knowing he was trying to reassure himself more than Skye or Martin.

 

“Just three days,” Martin echoed, and stepped closer to kiss Skye’s auburn curls. He leant upwards to kiss Douglas’ cheek, too, nosing at him gently. “Ready, love?” His hand settled protectively on Douglas’ waist and gently squeezed.

 

Douglas sighed, hugged Skye once more, and nodded. “Bye, gorgeous girl,” he whispered, handing her back to Martin. “ _À bientôt_.”

 

Martin took a deep breath of his own, his pupils dilating as he inhaled the scent of Douglas in the small space of the cloakroom. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, and disappeared towards the front door.

 

“Bye, Arthur,” Douglas called, firmly ensuring that his voice would _not_ tremble.

 

“Bye Douglas! We’ll see you soon!” Arthur’s shout made Skye squeak a bit and Douglas heard Arthur’s voice change as he soothed her. “Oh no, come here – it’s OK, little one…”

 

The fractious whimpering subsided as Skye was handed over; Douglas heard Martin giving her a kiss. “Thanks for this,” Martin said. “We’ll look forward to seeing you – I’ll call you when… when it’s done.” Douglas could practically _hear_ Martin’s blush.

 

“No rush,” Arthur said, meaningfully. “Take your time.”

 

“Yes, well, thanks, I mean – um –“ Martin’s blustering embarrassment made Douglas grin in spite of the parting pang. “Speak soon.”

 

“Bye!” There was the rustle of Arthur picking up the myriad bags that Martin had deemed necessary for Skye’s first holiday without the two of them, presumably juggling them with Skye in her car-seat.

 

“Bye.” A soft click as Martin closed the door, and a deep breath clearly audible even from a distance. Douglas swallowed again, bile slightly sour in his throat. He felt horribly restless, empty in too many ways.

 

Martin made Douglas jump, appearing in the doorway – he must have crept on cats’ feet down the hall. “You OK?”

 

Douglas shook himself. “Think the worst’s over,” he said, wriggling a little as his shirt made his skin itch.

 

“Arthur will be alright with her, won’t he?” Martin seemed fragile, and Douglas opened his arms for a hug, Martin snuggling into his embrace without a second thought.

 

“Of course he will,” Douglas reassured. “Skye adores him, and he her.” He bent his head to nudge Martin’s ear with his nose. “They’ll be fine.”

 

“Hmm.” Martin’s hum was calm. Douglas held him closer, the scent of Martin more enticing than he could remember since the end of his pregnancy, nine months before. Echoing his appreciation, Martin spoke. “D-Douglas… you smell… so good.”

 

“Likewise,” Douglas murmured, trying not to show just how affected he was by Martin’s ragged tones. As if to prevent him from initiating anything just then, though, his stomach clenched and Douglas reluctantly pushed Martin away. “Sorry – maybe need another hour –“ he groaned, and Martin’s forehead wrinkled in sympathy.

 

“Shall I bring you some tea?” he asked, rubbing circles into Douglas’ back as his Omega sank back down to lean sideways against the radiator by the loo.

 

“Gingerbread too, please.” Douglas smiled wanly, an irrational trickle of worry niggling at him. “Is the front door locked? And – and all the windows?”

 

Martin nodded. “I’ve made sure of it.”

 

“Certain?” Douglas was beginning to feel clammy, too hot, and pricklingly vulnerable. “It’s nearly time.”

 

“I know.” Martin drew another deep breath, his pupils now so huge and black that they seemed to have consumed his irises whole. “I’ll check again,” he promised.

 

“Sorry,” Douglas said, a light shiver tracing through him.

 

“No.” Martin shook his head. “I want to check, too.” He dragged his fingers lightly through Douglas’ hair, making Douglas long to arch his neck for Martin to see. “You’re all mine.”

 

The treacle-darkness that had slipped into Martin’s voice was so unexpected that Douglas had to close his eyes against the sudden giddy rush of it. “Yes,” he agreed, and listened to the sound of Martin padding predatorily away from him. He fisted his hands at his temples, and panted.

 

 _Soon_.

 

* * *

 

It took two hours for Douglas to feel safe to emerge from the toilet, but when he did he nearly fell over Martin, who’d been sitting in the middle of the hall, reading. Douglas blinked, his more rational brain noting that Martin had positioned himself between Douglas and the front door – _keeping invaders out or me in?_ he wondered – but his animal subconscious dismissed the thought without further consideration.

 

Martin cast his magazine aside and stood up, stance broad and protective in a way he’d never normally adopt; Douglas couldn’t find it in himself to mind. “How are you?” Martin asked, eyes running over Douglas’ figure as if assessing his health.

 

Douglas nodded, trying his best to speak calmly. “Much better.” Martin took a pace towards him, hesitating like a lioness before a pounce, and Douglas held out a slightly shaky hand. “You?”

 

“I –“ Martin swallowed, and Douglas was reminded that this was only the second time in his entire life that Martin would have felt the rush of an oncoming heat without trying to fight it off. “I don’t know, I – it’s odd –“

 

“You’re alright,” Douglas murmured, and pulled Martin into a cuddle, Martin burrowing into Douglas’ shirt. “I’m here.”

 

“Here,” Martin repeated nonsensically, his hands running up Douglas’ back, resting on his shoulders for a second. “Let me –“ He wriggled a hand free, using it to tuck a strand of hair behind Douglas’ ear. His fingers ran searchingly down and over one of the two scent glands on Douglas’ neck, and at the touch Douglas felt the first smear of wetness low down inside him. He closed his eyes, and heard Martin’s tiny snarl.

 

“Take me to bed,” Douglas whispered.

 

Martin leant in and scented him, breathing short and choppy. “Not yet,” Martin said, making Douglas whine without him meaning to.

 

“Please.” Douglas felt itchy and empty and _wrong_. Martin was near him, but not near enough. He’d never known an Alpha not to just pounce on him as soon as he’d given even the vaguest indication that he wanted them.

 

Martin, though, seemed intent on taking his time. He was panting against Douglas’ ear, sliding his hands up and under Douglas’ top, raising goosebumps as he traced little patterns with his fingertips amidst Douglas’ chest hair. “You want this?” Martin asked, quietly, harshly.

 

“You’re asking me _now_?” Douglas couldn’t stop an incredulous bark of laughter as Martin’s words reached his scrambled brain.

 

His laugh cut off as if guillotined when Martin growled. “ _Douglas_.” The Alpha’s hands gripped at Douglas’ ribcage, making him shudder with longing. “When we go upstairs –“ Martin inhaled, heavily – “I might not be able to – stop myself –“

 

“I don’t _want_ you to stop yourself.” Douglas bit gently at Martin’s ear.

 

“You want me.” There was almost no doubt left in the statement, but Douglas hastened to affirm the utterance nonetheless.

 

“I want you, Martin Crieff.” Douglas’ instincts were overwhelming him in a way he’d almost never permitted them to before, and he slid smoothly down, folding to his knees at Martin’s feet, gazing up at his Alpha and not bothering to hide the emotion in his face. “Please.” He took a deep breath and slowly, deliberately, arched his bare neck, revealing the smooth skin at his nape to Martin’s ravenous stare. “Have me.”

 

There was a bare second’s pause, a trembling stillness between them – and then Martin’s hand fisted fiercely in Douglas’ hair, drawing a gasp from him. Martin dragged Douglas’ head back, making him meet his eyes, and Douglas’ desperate whimper cut the silence. “Upstairs,” Martin commanded, and Douglas didn’t want to do anything but crawl.

 

“No,” Martin snapped, as Douglas edged on hands and knees down the hallway. Douglas halted, confused, glancing back over his shoulder. “You _walk_ , Douglas.” Something in Martin’s eyes softened, just slightly. “You might be my Omega, but I’m _your_ Alpha, and we walk. Together.”

 

Douglas stood, perplexed gratitude swirling inside him. He’d never met an Alpha like Martin, never imagined that someone like Martin was even possible. Linda, Mel and Helena had never been happy during Douglas’ heats unless he was on his knees, on his back, grovelling for them somehow. It had soothed some submissive instinct for Douglas to do it, but his more rational brain had always kicked indignantly at the need. Martin was the first Alpha to whom Douglas had ever actually _wanted_ to kowtow, and now he found that Martin didn’t require him to prostrate himself, Omega to Alpha. Perhaps that was why it felt right to submit to Martin, Douglas mused, even as growing desperation threatened to overwhelm his higher powers of thought. Submission was his gift to give, now, not an obligation reluctantly wrung from him.

 

And so, when they reached the landing, Douglas nosed gently at Martin’s neck, hid his face and just breathed, waiting for Martin to take charge. Martin paused too, his hands slipping to hold Douglas’ waist. “What is it?” Martin asked, sounding slightly confused. “What do you want?”

 

Douglas nipped lightly at Martin’s neck, enough to create the tiniest sting with his teeth, a foreshadowing of what he most longed for. “I want what you want,” he whispered. “Whatever that is.”

 

“Douglas…” Martin’s arms encircled him fully, holding him tight. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to put me in charge.” He shuddered, and Douglas didn’t need to look to know that Martin was fully erect already. Martin gasped a bit as Douglas nipped him again. “Wait, please... I don’t want to be like… the others.”

 

“You don’t understand.” Douglas drew back just enough to meet Martin’s eyes. “I _want_ to do this for you.” He fought to find the right words to express the novelty of the feeling. “I never – before, I never wanted to – be like this… just _be_.” He closed his eyes for a moment, trembling against the desire to strip and bare himself to his Alpha, to be fucked and filled as he so badly needed. He had to say this, first. “It’s you – it’s different. I trust you.” He leant to press a kiss lightly, pleadingly, to Martin’s jaw. “I want to be _this_ for you. I – I need to be yours. Your Omega.” He bowed his head and stepped back, giving Martin space. “Be my Alpha. Please.”

 

Douglas didn’t look up, but he could hear the hitch in Martin’s breathing that betrayed his ebbing composure. Douglas curled his fists, but it wasn’t defensive; there was a pleasant tension thrumming within him, anticipation stretching taut. Gradually he realised there was a new sound vibrating in his ears; Martin was growling.

 

It wasn’t an angry noise, it was a possessive one, and the rumbling made Douglas’ insides melt to liquid; he felt pliant and plastic, ready to bend to his Alpha’s will in a way he never had before in his life.

 

Martin moved nearer to him, wordlessly fumbling at Douglas’ belt, opening Douglas’ flies to cup him where his cock was straining at his boxers. Martin inhaled sharply in excitement. “Bedroom,” he ordered, and Douglas reached for him, allowing Martin to frogmarch him into the room they now shared, kissing at Martin’s neck as they went.

 

They tumbled through the door, Martin closing it firmly behind them and leaning back on it, as if they’d been pursued by a horde of competing Alphas. He threw his head up, and his lip curled into a snarl of a grin that made Douglas weak at the knees. Douglas unbuttoned his shirt at the unspoken command, stripping both it and his trousers off as quickly as he could. He squirmed as he felt the dampness of his thighs, and his scent filled the room still more strongly.

 

Before Douglas could remove his boxers, Martin had stepped forward and Douglas leant against him, inhaling urgently as Martin’s hands explored his behind, slipping into his cleft and stroking. “Oh God – oh, you’re so wet, already, _Douglas_ –“ Martin sounded tortured, and Douglas whimpered as the probing fingers ignited the fire of need inside him.

 

“Please – please –“ he begged, and tugged longingly at Martin’s jumper. “I need –“

 

“ _Yes_.” Martin shoved him, then, herding him the few steps backwards to their bed, yanking his clothes off ungracefully as they went. He staggered a little as he kicked his trousers away. Ordinarily Douglas would have chuckled, but now it wasn’t funny – Martin was in charge, Martin was going to take him, have him, keep him –

 

“Take them off.” Martin tugged at Douglas’ boxers, and that was it, they were bare to each other at last. Martin crowded Douglas back against the pile of pillows, eyes flashing, straddling Douglas’ supine form and pressing a swift kiss to his forehead before the Alpha reared backwards onto his haunches. Martin’s hands parted Douglas’ bent-up knees so that he could stare hungrily at the shining slickness he’d helped to inspire between his Omega’s legs.

 

“So wet,” Martin purred, something in him evidently satisfied with the fact, and Douglas reached to cover one of Martin’s hands with his own, squeezing longingly.

 

“Touch me. Please.” The horrible hollow inside Douglas was resonating, demanding fulfilment.

 

Martin nodded without a word, and slid his hand tantalisingly slowly down Douglas’ inner thigh, stroking a single finger over Douglas’ entrance. Douglas wriggled at the sensation, trying to encourage Martin inwards; Martin resisted, though, biting his lip. He drew tiny circles around Douglas’ hole, Douglas shivering as he did so, battling the urge to sob and plead. Martin kissed his knee, kissed down his legs, never stopping the sinuous stroking motion, then kissed – he kissed –

 

“Martin – oh, oh, _oh_ …” Martin’s tongue was flicking _inside_ Douglas, Martin’s lips caressing his rim, making Douglas gasp and grimace at the pleasure of it. He tangled his hands in Martin’s hair, fighting the twin urges either to yank the curls or to push Martin’s face more closely into him.

 

After a minute, Martin leant back, replacing his mouth with three fingers, his other hand taking hold of Douglas’ furiously hard cock to stroke. “Good?” he asked, roughly, and Douglas screwed his eyes shut and nodded.

 

“You – I’m so close.” Douglas’ words were harsh as he tensed and trembled, and he felt Martin’s snarl of satisfaction where his Alpha’s chest leant against his leg.

 

“Come on, then,” Martin ordered, and probed more deeply, finding Douglas’ vaginal entrance within him and pressing. Douglas fell utterly apart with a shout, his whole body clamping down on Martin’s hand, his cock leaping as he shook to pieces with pleasure.

 

He was still quivering as the climax ebbed away and the echoing void in him hungrily begged for more. He reached out, grabbing Martin’s arm. “You. Please, I want you.”

 

Martin bestowed one more kiss on Douglas’ knee before he took his hands away, the increased hollowness without Martin’s fingers instantly making Douglas whine in anguish. “I know,” Martin murmured, one hand caressing Douglas’ cheek and smearing Douglas’ own wetness onto his face. “I know. It’s OK, shh.” He lined himself up, towering over Douglas, but something seemed to occur to him. “You took your pill?” Martin asked, clearly needing to check one final time.

 

Douglas laughed breathlessly, despite the desperation wracking him. “Yes,” he promised, and threw his hands round Martin’s neck. “You saw me this morning.”

 

“Yes.” Martin ducked his head and they met in a kiss, tongues sliding and Douglas going rigid all over as he licked his own taste from Martin’s lips and chin. Martin fumbled between them to stroke Douglas’ cock again; Douglas’ hands slid down Martin’s back to cup his buttocks, pulling him close. Martin pushed and drove in at long last, filling Douglas up in an ecstatic deep glide that made them both moan at the bliss of it.

 

“My Douglas,” Martin gasped, and kissed him again and again, Douglas rocking upwards into him. “Mine, mine…”

 

Douglas keened, electric sensation curling his toes. He hooked his ankles round Martin’s calves and used his hands to urge Martin into movement, Martin beginning to thrust far more slowly than Douglas wanted him to. As Douglas whined in protest, Martin took hold of Douglas’ lower lip in his teeth and tugged, enough to silence his Omega’s complaint. Martin was growling again: music to Douglas’ ears.

 

As Douglas relaxed completely underneath him, submitting at last, Martin replaced the stinging nip with a kiss, shifting a shaking hand to fondle Douglas’ ear. “Slowly,” Martin whispered, hoarsely. “We’re not rushing this.” His inward drive nudged into Douglas’ vagina for the first time, and they both groaned. “No matter how much we… want to.”

 

Douglas nodded, Martin’s hand slipping up his chest to pinch his peaked nipples. Douglas nudged his nose upwards, into Martin’s neck, letting the scent of his Alpha fill his brain; his mind chanting _more, more, more._ “Feels… incredible… oh, my darling…”

 

“You too, you too.” Martin sped his pace slightly, bucking his hips faster. “Can you come again?” he panted, making blood thunder in Douglas’ ears.

 

Douglas cock was now trapped between their stomachs, the friction bringing him nearer by the second. Martin shifted his angle a little, clearly trying to rub over Douglas’ prostate and heat gland more effectively, and Douglas helped to guide him. “Nearly, nearly – _oh yes_ , there –“ Douglas' breath caught at the lurching, sudden ecstasy of it, of Martin’s enormous cock stroking over the most delicious place inside him while deft fingers played with his erect nipples, and suddenly he was toppling again, crying out into Martin’s neck and swearing as he came.

 

Martin gave up any attempts at self-control, clinging to Douglas so hard that he would leave bruises - Douglas didn’t care in the slightest. Martin pulled out, making Douglas whimper as the burgeoning knot tugged at him, and Douglas willingly allowed his Alpha to roll him over, melting into the sheets at the sensation of being so adoringly manhandled.

 

Martin’s hands gripped Douglas’ wrists as he pushed back inwards, slowly enough to make sure he wouldn’t hurt him; he thrust as deeply as he could, then circled his hips, rubbing all around Douglas’ passage and making him want to howl at the incredible feeling of it. Martin pressed his nose behind Douglas’ ear, bit sharply at the lobe. “I’m not going to stop,” he breathed, and Douglas sobbed in bliss. “I’m never leaving you.”

 

“Please,” Douglas begged, leaving dignity, coherence, self-possession miles behind. He didn’t need them anymore. He had Martin. “Please.”

 

“I know.” Martin began to rock his hips again at last, and this time it was fast and hard and _glorious_. “Me too.”

 

Douglas felt the grip of Martin’s knees at his thighs, of Martin’s hands at his wrists, and he pushed his arse up and out as best he could to welcome his Alpha’s desperate thrusts. Martin’s breath was tickling his neck, the panting gasps shortening and growing rough as Martin’s knot began to swell, until –

 

“ _Now_ , please!” Douglas had been momentarily concerned that Martin would forget, but he needn’t have worried. As Martin’s orgasm overtook him, so did his natural instincts, and Martin closed his teeth tightly around Douglas’ nape, breaking the skin with a muffled snarl of ecstatic conquest.

 

Douglas yelped at the hot-bright feel of it, his Alpha’s saliva penetrating his scent-glands and beginning the rapid, fundamental reordering of his brain chemistry, marking him as Martin’s, forever, forever. There was no pain; just sweeping devotion, and at the feel of a fresh burst of Martin’s ejaculate filling him deep inside, Douglas came untouched, his body shaking but held solidly together in his Alpha’s adoring clutch.

 

It seemed to take an age before either of them moved, both clearly wanting the moment of the bonding to extend into infinity. Douglas was contentedly limp between Martin’s jaws, but gradually Martin’s grip on his wrists loosened, enough for Douglas to turn his hand over to grasp Martin’s and to stroke his palm with his thumb.

 

With a final, small growl, Martin drew his head away, and Douglas felt the warm trickle of tiny rivulets of blood down his neck. Martin tensed and groaned behind him as he came again, and Douglas brought his Alpha’s hand to his mouth to kiss.

 

“You’re mine,” Douglas said, soft and wondering. “Always.”

 

Martin had bent back down to lick and soothe, cleaning away the mess just created. His hand left Douglas’ wrist, fingers moving to press adoringly at the fresh wound he’d caused; Douglas arched his neck at the delicious sting and pushed back into the touch. “Douglas,” Martin murmured. “Look at you.”

 

There was such pride in Martin’s tones that Douglas had to close his eyes against the well of love that flooded up inside his heart. “You’re mine, now,” Martin affirmed quietly, his knot at last beginning to soften, their bodies temporarily sated.

 

Douglas sighed with happiness as Martin kissed the top of his spine, exactly in the centre of the bite mark that now bound them together as one.

 

“I always was, I think,” Douglas whispered. “Always yours.”


	24. Ω

_Epilogue_

 

“I want to write it!” Skye pouted, her lower lip pushing out, blue eyes glaring defiantly into Douglas’. Douglas sighed. He always struggled to say no to those eyes – the image of her father’s.

 

“Alright, chicken.” He passed over the piece of card. “Would you like me to dot the letters out for you, though?”

 

Skye considered, then nodded. “OK,” she said, and beamed, cuddling into Douglas’ side and watching as he outlined the word ‘Arthur’ in dashes for her to draw between.

 

“Here you go.” Douglas passed the homemade birthday card back and watched proudly as Skye carefully inscribed the lettering, her freckly forehead wrinkled in concentration.

 

“Done!” Skye closed the card, then made to wriggle off her chair. It was too high for her though, and Douglas caught her before she managed it.

 

“Wait, wait,” he chided. “You haven’t signed it from you, yet.”

 

“But Papa…” Skye looked longingly towards the grimy portacabin window.

 

“Come on, quickly.” Douglas firmly handed her the crayon again. “Then they’ll be landing, and you can watch.”

 

“Oh, OK.” Skye hastily scrawled her version of her name in the card, the ‘S’ coming out backwards. Douglas grinned to himself, putting aside the admin he’d been working on for MJN; now Skye was older, he and she spent some of the week helping Carolyn out, and the office was like a second home. It suited Douglas – with his knack for scheming and organising (not to say his greater charm and suavity on the phone) business had never been better, and GERTI was in the air at least as much of the time she was on the ground, these days.

 

Douglas surreptitiously checked the flight tracker app on his phone. GERTI was on her final approach, and he felt his pulse quicken in anticipation. Martin had been away for two nights, and the pleasure at his Alpha’s imminent arrival was enough to send a tickle down his spine. He kissed Skye’s hair to cover his excitement. “Want to go and watch?” he asked.

 

“Yeah!” Skye slid down from the wheely chair, making it scoot across the room, and she ran towards the door to the apron. She wriggled into the small fluorescent vest kept on a child-height peg just for her as Douglas slipped his own luminous jacket on. “Come _on –_ “ she whined. “We’ll miss them!”

 

“Coming, coming.” Douglas took her hand, and together they walked out onto the tarmac.

 

Skye pointed. “I see them!”

 

The familiar, squat outline of GERTI was visible, dipping lower gradually as she came in to land. Douglas smiled in spite of himself, hugging Skye to his side.

 

Skye was watching appraisingly through narrowed eyes. “The angel – angel – of bank is steep,” she said, sounding so like her father that Douglas chuckled.

 

“ _Angle_ of bank, sweetheart,” Douglas corrected. “And it’s OK, there’s a crosswind today.”

 

“Oh.” Skye was mollified. She seemed to be considering something. “How old will Uncle Arthur be tomorrow?”

 

Douglas counted. “He’s going to be 34.”

 

“34?” Skye pondered. “So he’s older than I am, Papa.”

 

“Even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”

 

“Because last week I was… five.”

 

“That’s right.” Douglas ruffled her hair. “That’s what your cake said, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” GERTI was nearly down, and Skye twitched with excitement. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

 

Douglas felt like echoing her. “Martin,” he murmured under his breath, and they waved together as GERTI touched down and turned to taxi to her usual stand, seeing the minuscule outlines of Herc and Martin waving back from behind her windscreen. It was a cargo flight, so Douglas hadn’t had to tidy up the portacabin, there were no passengers to welcome; his only job was to hug his Alpha and revel in his return... And possibly to boast to Carolyn about the booking he’d just secured from a barbershop choir from Fitton to Knoxville for the following week.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Douglas wheeled round, still keeping hold of Skye’s hand despite her jumping up and down. “Yes?” He was surprised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come through.”

 

The girl in front of him shifted awkwardly, her blue hair fluttering in the wind, biting her lip. “I’m looking for –“ She was nearly having to shout as GERTI drew up in front of them, the thunder of the engines drowning out speech.

 

Douglas held up a palm. “Wait a moment,” he called, and the girl nodded and subsided, rubbing her elbow with her hand. She looked young, only about 18 or 20, and was casually dressed in jeans and a shirt. Although Douglas was certain he didn’t recognise her, there was something faintly familiar about her face. He frowned as at last GERTI’s engines shut down, the roaring noise swirling around them fading to a much quieter hum.

 

“Daddy!” Skye was shouting, and Douglas turned away from the visitor with an apologetic shrug.

 

“Wait till the steps are out, then you can –“ Just then, Arthur pushed open GERTI’s door and released them, waving excitably to the pair of them and holding out his arms. Douglas gave in. “Oh alright, off you go –“

 

Skye didn’t need telling twice, shooting off the ten metres to the aircraft and clambering up the steps to hug Arthur. Douglas watched her go, making sure she was safely in her godfather’s care before turning back to the mystery woman behind him. “Sorry about that.” He hoped that whatever she wanted, it would be quick. He wanted to greet Martin. “How can I help you?” He adopted his politest customer-face, but something about this girl was still niggling at him.

 

The girl shuffled her feet. “I’m looking for someone.”

 

Douglas grew still more mystified. “Oh?”

 

She pushed a cerulean strand of hair back. “I don’t know if he still works here, but – his name’s Douglas. Douglas Richardson.”

 

“Douglas?” Douglas’ brain whirred. He took in the girl’s features, the slightly crooked nose, the curly hair, the – the brown eyes – “ _Oh_ ,” he gasped, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach.

 

“You know him?” she asked, looking more nervous still.

 

Behind Douglas, he heard the babble and chatter of MJN’s crew approaching, the _thunk_ as GERTI’s doors were closed. It all melted away as he held out his hand. “It’s me,” he said, trying not to let his voice shake. “You found me.”

 

“Douglas!” Martin’s voice was full of warm delight, perceptible even amongst the ecstatic shock swamping Douglas’ brain. Douglas half-turned, taking in the sight of them all: Skye carried in Martin’s arms but simultaneously holding Arthur’s shoulder, Herc actually permitted to have his arm around Carolyn’s waist for once – Douglas wondered whether it was the still-recent wedding bands on their fingers that had inspired _that_ minor miracle. He turned back to the girl as they reached him, tentatively brushed a knuckle to her cheek. Almost on instinct she covered his hand with her own, and the warmth of it flooded Douglas to his core.

 

“Douglas?” Carolyn’s voice was surprised as the five of them walked up to him. “Who’s this?”

 

Douglas lowered his arm, but didn’t loose the hand clutching his. His eyes found Martin’s, and he felt himself breaking into an enormous smile. “Everyone… say hello,” Douglas beamed. Martin’s eyes were flicking between Douglas and the stranger, and Douglas saw the moment Martin’s expression shifted to joyous understanding, feeling the answering rapture in his own soul.

 

“This is Verity.” Douglas let out a breath he felt he’d been holding for the past eighteen missing years. “This is Skye’s sister. My daughter.”


End file.
